


Your Insults Are Just Foreplay

by TLImela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Comfort/Angst, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hell Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Missionary Position, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Rape Recovery, Sex Positive, Sexual Tension, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9086680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLImela/pseuds/TLImela
Summary: "Sam knows how messed-up this is, but he also knows he is a man who has finally come to terms with himself over the years. And he knows he likes it rough, and he knows he likes strong, bad-ass women, and he knows he likes it a little dangerous. And if anything is gonna satisfy this reawakening of sexual self, it might as well be the witch he’s wanted to throw down with since the minute they made a devil’s bargain together."Sam has a long and complicated history when it comes to sex and relationships. When he meets Rowena by chance in a bar one night, he reminisces over his sexual history, self-healing, and what he wants for himself going forward.***Sam's hell memories include rape/non-con flashbacks (not explicit). All other sex scenes are consensual***





	

** Your Insults Are Just Foreplay **

 

Sam feels the red-and-black checkered flannel whisper across his sun-kissed skin as he pulls the shirt up over his shoulders. _He looks himself over in the mirror of his room, hands quickly buttoning the shirt up the length of his toned, muscular chest._ His lips quirk in a small sense of self-pleasure, he had lost some weight the past year, but has slowly and steadily been building it back up… _and he was just starting to like how his body looked again._ _After all, Dean was no longer in danger, Dean was safe, Dean was made whole…and Sam could finally eat and sleep and go for runs and all the things that he had pushed to the back burner in his determined quest to save his brother from that god-forsaken curse._

And speaking of feeling better about his body…he is going out tonight, and he is going out with a very specific goal in mind. _Gonna get laid, he hears Dean’s voice in his head say, and he purses his lips together in faux-annoyed amusement._ Yes, fine, _okay_ …he’s gonna get laid, at least that’s the plan. He used to go out every now and again to pick up a lady, to blow some steam, to connect with someone and make certain that they both had a nice time…that had tempered down a lot over the last year, as the stress of Dean not being well had sufficiently slowed his sex-drive to a crawl. _But it was back now, and it was almost overwhelming as it charged back through his entire system. The combination of having a stable home, of being surrounded and made content by family, of feeling…of maybe feeling good about himself, about his body…it caused his whole self to quiver again with a heat that demanded an outlet._

Sam supposes it might surprise some due to his quiet nature, but he has always been a sexual person with a very healthy drive, and he is not sorry now that he is rediscovering it after all he has gone through, after all that has quieted it down some over the years… _he was going to be thirty-three in the spring, but damn if he didn’t feel in his twenties again, the way his fingers have been twitching with want all day, the way his arousal has been getting half-hard at the thought of going out tonight, the fullness and desperate ache of warmth that is pooling in his lower belly._ He smoothes his shirt out against the coiled, hard muscle of his stomach and runs his fingers through his hair… _he’s let it grow out a bit, to the point where its fluff curls in soft wisps around his ears._ Small smile at the reflection again… _he’s ready to leave now, he thinks._

He heads out to the main room of the Bunker and finds Dean and Castiel sitting at the table and speaking in low, hushed voices… _fingers imperceptibly locked in hand-holding, because they are gigantic saps whenever they get alone_.

Sam is glad that his brother and Cas are going to have some alone time tonight… _they need time to reconnect, just as Dean and Sam did last week with their latest hunt…a werepire or whatever stupid thing Dean had called it._ Sam gives them a small wave, they straighten up from their conversation to turn towards him.

Dean gives a teasing wolf-whistle. “Look at you, all dressed to impress. Goin’ somewhere special, Sammy?”

Sam feels the heat rise in his cheeks, he is not telling Dean his plans tonight _…because then he will never hear the end of it. Dean means well, but it always serves to embarrass Sam whenever he goes on and on about little brother getting some, and Sam wants to keep this nice mature, confident aura he has going right now_. “Uh…yeah. Gonna go out to town, grab a beer…maybe some cheap bar food.”

“Ooh, livin’ dangerously.” Dean teases, his eyes alight with good-humor. “Want us to come with…?” But Sam can see that Dean is hoping his brother will decline… _Dean and Cas are all cuddled up together purposefully, and Dean is definitely setting out to get laid tonight too. Shouldn’t be hard, Cas is already looking at his brother with big blue pools of love and desire. But those eyes are also looking a tad world-worn and broken these days too…Sam frowns inwardly…he is worried about Cas, and when he catches his brother’s darkened expression, he realizes that Dean is worried about him too. Yeah, tonight will do them just as much good as it will hopefully do for Sam._

“No, you two stay in.” Sam gives a quick nod, clasping Cas on the shoulder and giving him a small squeeze. “Probably too loud and crowded there, anyway.”

Cas nods his head gently, as if loud noises and crowded spaces would definitely not be enjoyable tonight. “Have a good time, Sam. Stay safe.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later tonight.” He feels a small smile quirk at the corner of his lips, “Don’t wait up for me or anything.”

“Make good choices!” Dean yells over his shoulder as Sam makes his way up the Bunker staircase to the door.

Sam gives a good-natured nod and wave as he closes the door behind him. It’s a cool night out, and the chill of the wind sweeps lightly over his warmed flesh. He sucks in a deep breath as he makes his way to the Impala… _he’s ready for this, he’s ready for tonight…he’s ready to feel strong and powerful again…to touch soft skin and nibble at lovely curves...his one-night romp with Piper has been like a reawakening, and Sam is ready to give himself up to it._

_He feels slight nerves jostle around in his stomach as he turns the ignition and starts the car. This was like a reawakening. He had never quit sex cold turkey, but he had felt a lot of who he was as a sexual person slip away over the past few years. But now…now he feels like he is slowly rediscovering his own body, even as he discovers someone new for the first time._

_He was thirteen when he first jacked himself off…it was to a picture of Rio, the most fantastic bad-ass wrestler lady in the world…pretty, seductive bad-girl smile and long, blonde hair…full voluptuous body with meaty thighs and hips…Sam had such a huge crush on her, and when he was left alone for a few days while Dad and Dean were on a hunting trip, he couldn’t help but explore himself. The touching felt good, and when mixed in with fantasies of a kick-ass lady, Sam was soon convulsing and shuddering and spilling into the scratchy motel washcloth. But his gasping relief and elation were soon replaced by a creeping sting of shame… and not because he thought what he was doing was wrong, but because of this continual strange disconnect he had between himself and his body his whole life…his body never felt clean, never felt good…and now it was bringing him pleasure, and maybe that wasn’t clean or good either. _

_But Sam pushed those thoughts to the side… as those feelings were always going to be circling somewhere in the back of his mind…and on he continued with his lovely Rio, and eventually he moved on to the Playboy magazine Dad had hidden at the bottom of his suitcase, and then one day he borrowed a picture of a pin-up girl that Dean had stashed under his pillow, but that was a mistake. Because Dean knew it was missing and he knew Sammy was the only one who could’ve taken it…and oh my god…so much teasing, and good-natured ribbing, and “oh Sammys” murmured and so much of Sam blushing and sputtering that it was right then and there that Sam realized Dean just couldn’t handle anything that was Sam-and-sex related._

Sam parks the Impala outside _Black Powder_ , the small bar located on the outskirts of Lebanon. It’s a bar that he and Dean like to frequent, but it also brings in a lot of out-of-towners who are often looking for a night of fun and freedom. Sam closes the car door behind him, pausing for a moment. He takes a deep breath, readjusting his shirt, fingers twitching eagerly at the fabric. _Welp, this is it. He’s here._

_Sam had his first kiss with a girl named Amy when he was fifteen. She turned out to be a monster, but she saved his life too, and so Sam always held onto the memory with bittersweet fondness. It had been a brief over-all-too-quickly kiss, and it wasn’t until Sam was sixteen that he found the girl he would have his first time with._

_Terri Spencer. She was from some little town named Fish Springs, Nevada, population less than seven hundred, and she was going to be an actress. Long, curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes with a pure, sweet smile that made Sam’s heart skip a beat whenever he saw her. They were hunting some vengeful spirit in town, but in-between research, Sam would sneak away to find her and they would have the most amazing conversations. She made Sam feel good, like he was worth getting to know, like his ideas were worth listening to. Outside of Dean, nobody really took the time to hear how Sam felt or thought about anything. And she was interesting too, she was smart and good at writing and was going to move to California someday...and one day as Sam was talking about how he’d like to get away and find a new life too…she pressed full lips into his and murmured, ‘I think I love you’ in the most vulnerable, trembliest of voices._

_He came to visit her at her house one day, the first time since she had said she loved him. She came from a bad home, and so they had to wait until her dad was gone, because apparently he would throw a fit if he knew she had been talking to a boy. They kissed on the couch…slowly at first, then more assuredly…until finally she was grabbing Sam’s wrist and guiding his trembling hand to the round of her breast. Sam felt his heart leap up into his throat. Not that he hadn’t been expecting it would lead to this, he had a condom in his pocket that Dean had given him earlier that day. Dean had been surprisingly helpful when Sam asked about a ‘hypothetical friend’ he knew from school who needed advice for his first time._

_“Be gentle and pay attention to the girl.” Dean had said, lips pursed together, taking his big-brother-helping-little-brother role seriously. “Like, touch her and stuff before you go for it. And if it’s over really quickly…that’s okay. And, uh…” He pulled out a condom from his dresser drawer and shoved it into Sam’s hands. “Make damn sure your friend uses this, got it?”_

_And Sam did what Dean had said, he focused his efforts on touching and caressing her before anything else. At first it all seemed foreign and hopeless, but soon her hands were guiding his to the right places…and soon she was panting and keening heavily…and soon she was arching up into him and crying out and Sam was gasping in delight, harder and more eager than he had ever felt before… and for the first time in his life he was controlling his body, using it for something good, for something powerful and wonderful. By the time Sam entered Terri, he was so overstimulated and bursting with want that it was over much too fast, but she didn’t seem to mind. She peppered his face with tender kisses as he lay sprawled on her chest, gasping for air, smiling in sated happiness. Her lips tickled against the shell of his ear as she whispered softly, “Run away with me, Sam.”_

_And damn it, for a minute he thought about it. But instead, they ended up solving the case that night. Dad said they had to leave at once, that there was trouble two states north and they had to get a jump on it immediately, and so Sam never got to say goodbye. Sam sat tearful in the backseat, wondering if Terri hated him after that. Dean tried to cheer him up, but Dean got it too, he understood the feeling, and so he eventually just let Sam have his tears and regrets._

_But that had been the start of it, and Sam started finding other girls in other towns. He made sure they understood the impermanency of his stay this time, so that he wouldn’t risk anymore broken hearts. Part of him hated it…because as much as Dean teased him, he was a guy who loved emotional connection, alright, he loved permanency and he wanted a damn girlfriend, not just a string of one-night stands. But another part of him loved it… because it was a reprieve from the usual dirty awfulness he felt inside, a time of freedom from his usual out-of-control need to scrub himself…because it made him feel strong, and powerful, and in control…and good…and he made his girl feel good too, and everything was good, his body was good…and he realized then what a sexual person he could be, and he liked that…he loved that._

Sam sits down at the counter and says hi to Donnie the bartender, they are regulars around here. There’s a quick ‘where’s your brother?’ and a ‘it’s just me tonight’ before Sam orders his beer and settles back into his seat to survey the room. It’s not overly crowded, which is good, because Sam doesn’t like a lot of noise and people. There are a few ladies here, but some are out with their friends, and some look to be lost in their own thoughts, and Sam is not one to insert himself into anyone’s night if that isn’t what they came here looking for.

_It’s after prom and his date, Rachel, has her dress hiked up to around her hips. She is grinding down on his clothed crotch, making him hard, making him moan, his hands are up in her soft, blonde hair and he is tugging and grasping and aching with desire. They are behind the school, up against the brick-wall, sunk into the coolness of the nighttime grass, and Sam is waiting for Dean to come pick him up, hoping to god his brother doesn’t come yet._

_Sam wasn’t supposed to go to prom, his Dad had inexplicably told him it wasn’t a good idea, although he wouldn’t say why when pressed. That drove Sam crazy, which caused another stupid fight that ended with a lot of hurtful words thrown around. Sam had met Rachel in AP calculus, which meant she was smart which, of course, was very hot, and she was also cute and funny, and a bad girl with a dirty, sarcastic mouth, which all served to make her completely irresistible to Sam._

_He had asked her to prom, which was so nice and normal, and she had accepted, which was also so very nice and normal. And now he couldn’t go, and for no reason other than his Dad was a controlling ass, and so he was pent up in his room the night of prom near-tears, hands encircled around his legs and trembling with heated anger. When Dean entered, Sam tried to hide his flushed face, thought Dean might snap at him for the role he played in his fight with Dad. Instead, much to Sam’s surprise, Dean just gave a small, sad smile and simply stated, “C’mon, get your tux, let’s go.”_

_Okay, so sometimes Dean was really the best._

_And now Rachel is unbuckling his belt, and forcing down his zipper, soft hands reaching down into his pants and… oh god…his cock quivering and hard in her hands as she moves her panties to the side and slides over him. He muffles a strangled sob as she starts riding him right then and there behind the school, dancing students and disapproving teachers just an earshot away. It is so incredibly bad and hot, and Sam is unzipping her dress, fumbling fingers unsnapping her bra, pink, gasping lips latching around her nipple as she continues to moan and grind down into him. Eventually, she is pressing her closed fists into his contracting abs, body shaking, eyes screwed shut as she finds her release…and the tightening of her walls around his throbbing length makes him come hard and sloppy…he throws his head back into the soft grass, short, stifled cries breaking their panting silence, and the tux and prom dress are ruined no doubt, all rumpled and torn and stained with bodily fluids. But it doesn’t matter, because Sam loves this…maybe loves her…and he is sorry that he has to leave town after tonight._

_“Run away with me then.” Rachel suggests, a tad darkly as he opens up to her about his feelings about leaving. “Don’t you wish you could run away, Sam? I know how you feel, like you don’t belong with that family of yours. Well, maybe you don’t.”_

_The words are strange, and they sting a bit, but he leaves them alone. Because he doesn’t want to dwell on them, because he fears they are true. Dean picks them up…and Sam can see his eyes are already alight with mischief upon the state of their clothes, and Sam is already dying of embarrassment…god, how many stupid innuendoes can Dean sneak into the conversation, as if Rachel doesn’t know what he’s really saying. And the ride home after dropping Rachel off is awful, as it is filled with proud enthusiasm, and gentle teasing, and several dozen “oh Sammys”, but Sam can’t get too mad at him. After all, they both catch hell from Dad upon returning, and Dean knew that was coming, but he did it anyway, did it so Sam would be happy, so that Sam would have a good memory about prom, a prom Dean never got to attend himself._

_And it is a good memory…a great memory, in fact, one he often goes to in the solace of cold and lonely nights. But like most of his early memories, he later comes to realize that it is tainted and sullied by the curse of his demonic destiny. Rachel…well, the Rachel he knew…she was a demon, manipulating him, pushing and pulling him in directions in order to feed his inner darkness. And real Rachel…well, she was the terrified girl trapped inside…a helpless vessel being raped by something strong and violent…and that triggers something else within him, and now Sam can’t think back on prom night without feeling like he is going to throw up._

Sam downs more of his beer, starting to feel a little disheartened in his mission. The alcohol is working its way through his system all warm and relaxed, but he is not so inebriated that he will march up to anyone and make a proposition. He’s still waiting for a lady who is mutually attempting to catch his eye, who is eager to pull her chair up next to his, who is looking for a little conversation and laughter before getting down to business… _okay, so Sam knows he is still a giant sap…he is going to be thirty three in the spring, but just like when he was sixteen, sex is just better, more satisfying to him when had with someone who he shares a little bit of a spark with first._

 _Like his first time with Jess, it’s pure magic. It’s magic because there is such a sweet, delicious build-up, because he has time to get to know her first, because he knows he doesn’t have only a week to love her before leaving town like a whirlwind. She’s the girl he first notices in the Stanford library…a_ _flash of bouncing gold and the swirl of a crimson skirt. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, briefly drawing him out of his book, trying to study for his upcoming calculus exam. He writes down practice problems in his notepad, his books and study guides littering the old, wooden tables. The library is nearly empty at this time of night, the high-rise windows serving to let in a strain of silver moonlight that bathe the hushed shadows of those few dedicated souls who still remain._

_Golden hair…lots and lots of bouncing, curly sunshine locks. That’s what she’s like. A ray of sunshine that pierces the cold veil of night. And suddenly, calculus isn’t as engaging as it had been previously._

_Sam gives a heavy swallow as he tries to busy himself with his work. He has been in the library for over four hours now, the time always seeming to get away from him. It is a Thursday night, and he knows that most of his classmates are at frat parties or bar hopping across town. But that isn’t really Sam’s scene. He was never one for loud, chaotic environments. Not anymore. And he enjoys his studies…he is lucky to be here after all, and he wants to take full advantage of the opportunity that had been given to him._

_Because it wasn’t so long ago that this had all just been a hopeless dream. And sometimes it feels as if it still is a dream, as if he could wake up at any moment and find himself in a musty motel bed that reeks of stale cigarettes and whisky. His father calling for him to get ready, that they are leaving for another 22-hour car ride. His brother cleaning the guns, giving him a quick wink. Sam packing his books, trying to decide which one he should read to pass the time. Hoping he can stop at a bookstore to buy more soon, as these have been read so often the bindings are starting to fall apart._

_And as he climbs into the backseat, rock music blaring, he realizes that Stanford had just been another dream of a hopeful, lonely boy. The library, the cafeteria, his dorm room, making friends with his roommate, Brady. They were all just made up faces and locations that helped fill the time in-between jobs._

_But the girl with the golden hair…well, she is new. He supposes he has never dared to dream so bright, so beautiful, so vividly before now._

_Sam steals another glance in her direction. It now becomes clear to him that she is working; pulling a cart that holds a pile of books behind her, re-shelving each of them as she makes her way through the stacks._

_She’s tall. That catches his eye too. He’s used to towering over every girl he comes across, but he briefly wonders whether she might be able to hold her own against him.  She has legs that go on forever, long and lean, that lead up to a graceful, willowy figure._

_She glances over her shoulder, as if sensing that someone has been watching her. He looks away quickly, but not before catching a glimpse of shocking blue orbs and a face peppered with birthmarks and freckles, as if she has been repeatedly kissed by an angel._

_And Dean would have teased him mercilessly by now, asking why Sam just didn’t go up and say hi to her. Watching with amusement as Sam peeks over the top of his book, muttering an ‘Oh, Sammy’ every time his little brother blushes furiously before looking away again._

_God, sometimes he really misses Dean._

_He meets her again at a party, where Brady introduces them by name. Jessica Moore. Sam Winchester. He shakes her hand, says something off the cuff, and somehow…inexplicably …magically, it makes her laugh. They talk for the rest of the night, and she is so easy to talk to, and they talk for hours and about everything, which is a wonderfully different experience for Sam. He usually doesn’t connect with people as quickly as he is able to connect with her, after all, Dean was always the brother that most people were drawn to. He is the shy one, the invisible one. But not now. Not tonight. Jessica kisses his cheek when they say goodnight, and Sam feels as if he has been burned by the sun._

_They see each other on and off throughout the week at different events and classes. Sam can’t stop thinking about her, lost in thought even during his classes, doodling her eyes in the corners of his notebook. She is like someone he has never met before in his nomadic, lonely life, there is a promised permanency with this friendship, and Sam drinks it up like a parched, dying man. He’s known her for only a week now, but every day he finds her to be more wonderful, more understanding, more funny and beautiful than the last. Okay, so she’s also a little bossy and sarcastic, but that only makes Sam want her more. He knows, he has a weakness._

_He goes to a party he knows she’ll be at, surprising all of his friends…tomorrow the big English paper is due, after all. But he already spent all day making sure it was finished, because he can’t pass up the opportunity to spend more time with her. She greets him with another kiss on the cheek, and he feels his heart take flight. They go out to the patio, the music and lights quickly forgotten, and spend the rest of the night talking about Shakespeare and Voltaire._

_He is pointing out constellations to her, turning to make sure she sees Sagittarius, when her mouth catches his. She steals the breath straight out of his lungs, makes his whole body go weak and wobbly, but he only hesitates for a moment before giving in to the touch. He sinks his mouth into hers, trembling hands coming up to lock into soft, golden curls. He feels wetness press against the corners of his eyelids, because he can kiss her like this, really drink her down, and he doesn’t have to leave tomorrow. He doesn’t ever have to leave, and neither does she._

_It’s after the party and Sam and Jess have been kissing all the way home, hands roaming to unbidden territory, with Jess pressing herself all up against Sam’s lengthy body, no doubt feeling his hardening cock digging into her thigh. They get to her door and Sam is prepared to kiss her goodnight, doesn’t want to seem too presumptuous, but the smoldering look in Jess’s bright blue eyes is telling him not to leave quite yet._

_And he’s right, because soon she’s grabbing onto fistfuls of his hoodie, chuckling all sweet and breathless as she pulls him into her room. She can’t stop thinking about him, he’s been in her head all week, she murmurs, and her kisses are trailing down the length of his neck, and her hands are slipping under his shirt and nails are raking along hard coils of muscle. And Sam is blushing and biting at his bottom lip when she whispers what she wants him to do to her tonight, and he knows what she’s thinking, that he’s all shy and will need her to help coax him through this, to get him to open up with her in bed._

_But sex allows Sam to open up a part of himself that usually stays small and scrunched up within him, no coaxing necessary. He is taller, and more confident, and more assertive and more powerful in bed, and he is overjoyed that he gets to share that part of himself with Jess tonight. He scoops her off the ground, legs wrapped securely around his hips, and slams her up against the far-side of the dorm room wall. He is now ravishing her mouth, biting down on her plump bottom lip, large hand coming up to cup her breast and thumb at her nipple. And Jess is surprised, but beside herself with delight, moaning and urging him on appreciatively, wriggling her still-clothed warmth against the burning heat of his growing need._

_They kiss and suckle and grope and discard clothing in a desperate rush, until finally Sam throws her across the bed and goes down on her, nipping and lapping at her warm folds and sensitive nub enthusiastically. And he’s good at this, because there’s nothing he loves more than watching his partner come undone as he prods and kisses and pushes with his rough, wet tongue, long, practiced fingers working her open and drawing out all her sweet little noises…until finally Jess is shaking and dry-sobbing as she comes hard, hands tangled in her own hair, eyes wide with the shock of her pleasure._

_“Damn…” She murmurs, all flushed and pleasantly tousled. And she looks so damn beautiful in her abandon, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She shakes her head, at a loss for words, merely repeating, “…damn…”_

_And Sam is bolstered by her praise, knowing that she is enjoying giving up control to him… knowing that he is enjoying losing control and still not losing himself. He eagerly climbs across her tall, leggy frame, roughly pushes her down into the softness of the mattress, and steadies himself on either side of her with straining arms._

_And his body is pulled taut with coiled pressure, his length is quivering and straining to enter her, but he still finds himself hesitating, knowing that this time is different than all the others. Because this time he can see her tomorrow. Because this time there doesn’t have to be a goodbye. Because maybe, just maybe, someday she might even want to be his girlfriend._

_She seems to understand the sentiment, hand reaching up to stroke against his flushed, perspiring face…fingers twisting into the soft, fluffy curls that wisp around his ears._

_“I know.” She murmurs, gently pulling him down to capture his parted, pink lips… she tastes so sweet, like berries, like warm honey…and against them she slips out a choked, “Me too.”_

_The words sting at the corners of his eyes…and when he sinks into her, he is moaning from somewhere deep within his chest. She is encompassing him fully, up to the root of his throbbing length, he can’t go any deeper, and when they finally start moving it is like the world is crumbling beneath him. He pushes into her, breathless, quick strokes, her long legs wrapped around his hips and her lips whispering his name into the shell of his ear. They are both flushed and moaning when she finally arches up into him…beautiful in her abandon, cries like a broken prayer…and he pours himself into the damp crook of her shoulder, teeth biting down on the soft skin, strands of golden curls tangled in his open mouth, falling and twisting and dying in the unshaken grasp of her embrace._

_And they fall asleep like that, and they wake up the next morning like that. They go to breakfast at the cafeteria together, blushing and holding hands, but the conversation still flowing just as easily. They fall into an easy rhythm…they are friends, and they travel in the same social circles, and they are having more and more sex, and more regularly. And eventually, a few months later, they are having a very important talk…they are interested in seeing only each other going forward._

_And one night, as Sam grips onto her hips with white-knuckled desperation, as she rocks back and forth on top of his trembling form, enveloping his need and grinding him down…it hits him so suddenly and so painfully that he can hardly breathe. She looks so beautiful, so precious, soft lips parted invitingly, moaning gently, full, rounded breasts moving up and down as she sinks over him again and again._

_  And this isn’t just sex, he loves this woman. There’s no maybes here, he absolutely, unequivocally is in love with her. She’s the beat in his heart, she’s the stolen breath in his trembling lungs. He knows the difference now, and that is such a very scary thing to realize. _

_She seems to understand the sentiment, hand reaching down to stroke against his flushed, perspiring face…fingers twisting into the soft, fluffy curls that wisp around his ears._

_“I know.” She murmurs, gently leaning down to capture his parted, pink lips… she tastes so sweet, like berries, like warm honey…and against them she slips out a choked, “I love you too.”_

_And no one will ever, ever come close to Jessica, not in a million years. But that’s okay, because that’s not what Sam looks for anymore._

Sighing a bit, he drinks his beer down to the dregs… _might just be him and a picture of Rio again tonight, she still looked damn good, after all._ Then, mug still tipped to his lips, he sees her from across the room… _his eyes widening slightly in surprise, his breath catching in his throat_ …flash of flaming red mane, sparkling, bright green eyes and a slinky red dress that slips down past her ankles. Sam places his mug down on the counter, bristling in realization of who this woman really is… _the epitome of evil skanks, as Dean would say_ …and Sam needs to know exactly what she is doing in a bar in Lebanon, Kansas.

“Rowena.” He breathes out, his earlier round of whisky still clinging to his senses. He wraps his knuckles on the table top to signal his annoyance at her presence, causing her to jerk and spin around to look up at him. _Way up at him, because he is a giant and she is one of the tiniest things he has ever seen. Almost reminds him of someone else, but with dark hair and big brown doe-eyes…_

Her surprise is quickly tempered, as she is anything but a lady who likes to be caught off guard. An irritated smirk works its way across her face, “Samuel.” She drawls, in that thick Scottish brogue of hers. “How nice of you to greet me.” She quirks an eyebrow in bemusement and adds, “And where’s that brother of yours lurking?”

Sam hesitates, wondering if he should admit that he is alone… _wondering why he approached her in the first place without a plan, his brain is slowed with the warmth of liquor and he has a knife in his back pocket, but nothing that would do him any good against a seasoned witch like her._

“Oh, alone are we?” She grins, hand wrapping around her scotch and taking a sip. “Well, I thought the two of you were neigh inseparable. Trouble in paradise?”

“Cut the crap, Rowena, why are you here? In this bar?” Sam demands, sliding himself onto the seat next to her, long legs sprawled and dangling. “From what Dean’s told me, you seem to know we frequent the place.”

“As much as it may surprise you, _Samuel_ , my life does not revolve around you two bampots.” She drawls, the sarcasm dripping off her cherry-red lips. She bats her long lashes and simpers, “There’s witches business to be had, and none that concerns you.”

“Yeah, cuz that sounds perfectly legit.” Sam scoffs, raising an eyebrow in her direction. He leans forward, features darkening and states in a hushed tone, “I oughta take you out back and gank you right now.”

“Ooh, is that a promise?” She snips, turning in her chair so that she is facing him directly. _The neckline of her dress plunged low, the tops of milky white breasts catching his gaze. He chews at the bottom of his lip irritably, forcing himself to catch her sharp green eyes instead._ “Now run away before I cast a very unpleasant spell on you, Samuel.”

_She always calls him that…Samuel. He doesn’t like it, never really felt like a Samuel, always felt like the name ‘Sam’ fit him better and more comfortably. He doesn’t outright dislike the name…but it is for birth certificates and driver’s licenses and passports…not something that he would chose to have people call him directly._

She is sufficiently pissing him off now, and so he reaches down and grabs onto her wrist… _and it’s so tiny, melting into the enormity of his large hand_ …and pulls it up towards his chest. _She’s powerful, but she’s also small, and so her seat drags towards his…her face pulled closer than he has originally intended._

“I want to know what the _hell_ you’re up too…” Sam breathes out, wondering why his pulse is quickening, why his heart is starting to _thump, thump, thump_ suspiciously within his tightening chest. He licks his lips, trying to keep the threatening nature in his voice as he hisses, “…and I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

Rowena bristles heavily as she remarks, “Do you honestly want me to put a hex on you?” But her wrist remains trapped in Sam’s large, demanding grasp, and she isn’t struggling to pull away. She glances up at him mockingly, “My, giant, what a cute little mouse you’d make.”

_But her threats ring hollow, because there is something being pulled taut between them, something that Sam does not want to admit to. They have history together, after all, Rowena is one of the people Sam came to for help when Dean had the Mark of Cain. And Rowena is a lot like him in some ways, ways that used to scare him before he learned where to toe the line. She is morally grey and calculating and prone to ruthlessness if given the chance. She helped him cure his brother, and for that he remained strangely grateful, but she could just as easily turn around and attempt to kill them all at a moment’s notice. She wasn’t a good person, wasn’t someone Sam could trust…so why every time he was near her did some invisible rope get pulled tight in his lower abdomen, why did some unwanted flame taper and twist in his gut…why did some kind of building, coiling, gnawing  tension seem to scream out for resolution?_

Sam motions to the bartender to bring them a couple of drinks. He doesn’t take his eyes off Rowena, and he can see that the heat of his gaze is starting to make her squirm a little, although she attempts to play it calm and collected.

“What is this, an interrogation?” Rowena purrs, pushing some of her flaming red curls behind her ear. She rolls her eyes, dramatically, “You’re boring me, Samuel.”

Sam grabs his whisky and takes a small drink. A smile curls at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I think we both know that’s not true.”

_The words tumble through whisky-soaked lips and are out in the world before he can push them back in. Rowena does a small double-take, bright green eyes looking him over curiously. She brings her scotch to her lips, trying to hide the small grin that is dusting them._

“I’m afraid my taste runs alpha.” She murmurs under her breath, as if not wanting others in the bar to hear their conversation. “Shy and awkward boys are cute, but not my type.”

Sam smiles, appreciatively, dimples peeking through. “Fair enough.” He shrugs, thumb encircling the vein in her wrist… _and he knows he is not imagining it when her pulse quickens under his fingertips_. “But you’re the one who brought it up.” He throws back another drink, bolstered by his growing confidence of self. “I still just wanna gank you.”

Rowena scoffs, but it turns more into a breathless chuckle. “Sounds to me as if you’re just a lot of talk.” She pushes herself forward in her chair, and now her words ring out like a challenge as she hisses, “You’re still boring me, Samuel.”

Sam wets his lips _…noticing the red curl that drapes across her soft, pale face…noticing the way her chest is rising and falling as she breathes…noticing the way her slinky red dress hugs her curves in all the right places._ “What are you doing here, Rowena?”

Rowena’s bites at her bottom lip, eyes flickering over his face… _dropping down to assess the way his broad chest also rises and falls_ …before catching his gaze once more and murmuring, “What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here, dressed so nice and all cleaned up. Not to mention you smell heavily of cologne…” She raises a knowing brow, grin quirking her painted lips and hisses, “…so answer _my_ question, giant.”

And those words are enough to send him over the edge. _His large hand still locked tightly around the pale, soft skin of her small wrist. And damn it, he knows how messed-up this is, but he also knows he is a man who has finally come to terms with himself over the years. And he knows he likes it rough, and he knows he likes strong, bad-ass women, and he knows he likes it a little dangerous_. _And if anything is gonna satisfy this reawakening of sexual self, it might as well be the witch he’s wanted to throw down with since the minute they made a devil’s bargain together._

He leans in closer to her, so close that his lips are brushing the shell of her ear, scarlet curls tickling his nose. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving, Rowena.” He breathes out, finally releasing her small wrist from his grasp. “I’ve got a place to stay for the night… _Moonlight Inn_ , across the street.”

“All by your lonesome?” Rowena coos, and Sam suddenly feels her released hand touch against the fabric of his jeans _…it is laying gently on the inside of his thigh…fingers stroking lightly in promises of a firmer touch. Sam draws in a quick intake of breath, longing for those hands to search the length of his body, but he doesn’t move an inch_.

“Maybe not.” Sam shrugs, pulling away to catch her vivid green gaze. _He is being bolder than usual, but his newly discovered confidence is pushing him on._ A small smile quirks at the corner of his lips as he murmurs, “Guess that’s up to you.”

Rowena gives a breathless chuckle… _her fingers dance up the inside seam of his pants…blood is starting to pool into his cock, it stiffens slightly at the anticipation of her not-quite-touch._ Sam tries to keep his breathing regulated, but his fingers tighten slightly around the whisky glass, as he continues to hold her gaze with matching intensity.

Rowena gives a ghost of a grin before her eyes finally dart away. “Like I said…” She whispers, hand slowly retreating away… _and Sam feels a disappointed exhale leave his lungs in a breath he didn’t realize he was holding_. “Not my type, Samuel.”

_Madison is the first woman he has sex with since Jessica’s death. He couldn’t even think of being intimate with anyone else before that, because sex with Jess had become familiarity and adoration and reflection of self and the one you love all wrapped up into one beautiful and self-giving act. It was unthinkable that he could ever be like that with anyone again, or could even go back to anything casual. But Madison heals some of his brokenness, because she is damaged like him, and she has something dark inside of her like him, and so he comes to understand her, and comes to care about her, and could have loved her if given enough time, and their sex is beautiful and healing and all-too-quickly marred with aching tragedy._

_After that, he falls back into his old ways of one night wonders in towns that he and Dean blow through during blood-soaked hunting adventures. But his ability to emotionally connect feels severed inside, and so his sex drive stutters and stalls within as well. He is torn up inside by a deal Dean made to save his life—Sam alive for Dean’s soul in Hell by the end of the year—as well as the realization that the uncleanliness he has felt inside all his life is born of a monster that lives within his veins—the demon blood fed to him when he was only six months old._

_And so he will have a single night with a young lady met in a bar or a coffee shop here or there, but it becomes more and more rare as time passes. Because there is no more anticipation of emotional connection, because Sam does not see the world like that anymore. He is broken…granted, he was always broken, but he has finally learned to accept that fact and has stopped trying to super glue the sad little pieces back together again. He has stopped trying to do something good with such a dirty, damaged body. And whenever he looks in the mirror, the same mocking mantra plays in his head on repeat. Your body is so unlovable. Your body is so dirty. Your body is so broken, Sammy._

_And then there is Ruby. Sam does not know how to describe Ruby’s presence in his life, still does not have the words for it. The last woman he ever loved, his greatest disappointment, his most brutal betrayal. But at the time…at the time when Dean was gone, and Sam was lost and hopeless, Ruby allows him to be broken. Hell, she loves him when he’s broken. And he loves her brokenness too…loves her big, lonely brown eyes, and her small powerful-yet-needy body, and her sarcastic mouth that fires him up and gets him moving in the right direction like only Dean used to do, and the copper-taste of her spoiled blood, warm and satisfying against his desperate, monstrous lips._

_And the more they fight together, and make love together, and seek desperate-bloodied-revenge against Lilith together…and are irreparably broken together…the more Sam feels himself falling for this sad and lonely girl with the big chocolate eyes and the dirty mouth._

_It is nightfall in their motel room. Ruby is sliding to her knees, spreading his thighs with warm palms, and wriggling between them all small and lithe. She looks up at him with needy, encouraging eyes…eyes that sparkle with danger, but have lately been more hesitant and questioning as well… and maybe—maybe that’s because she is falling in love with him too, Sam wonders with a pleasant jolt, but he quickly hushes that part of himself, trying to stay in the moment, trying not to do anything to mess this up. Who thinks these things when they’re about to get a damn blow job, he hears Dean admonish him in his head._

_He sucks in a shuddering breath and glances up at her. He needs her, needs her more than he’s ever needed anyone or anything, save Dean. He feels his lips part subconsciously as he gives a small nod, as her nimble fingers tip, tip, tip down the zipper of his pants. His gut clenches in heated anticipation, his cock giving a small jerk against her searching palm. She pulls his pants down just enough to expose the fullness of his thick length, biting down at her bottom lip eagerly in response. Sam doesn’t know if it’s just a show to excite him, but he feels himself blush appreciatively anyway at the way she enthusiastically appraises his junk._

_“I love how you feel.” She whispers into his ear, lips dropping down to give the lobe a small bite. A guttural moan bubbles up from somewhere deep inside and slips past Sam’s lips. Her hand slips down to the root of his length and circles around it, tightening slightly. Sam’s hips give a small jerk up into her, his breath starting to quicken in his chest. He gasps, his cock thickening as her palm gives a slow, dragging pump. “I love how big and thick you are…how warm and heavy it lays in my hand…” She gives him a firmer pump, palm moving up and down his hardening shaft. He bows his head, hands squeezing against his knees now. “I love how you taste, Sam, love the heft of you in my mouth…”_

_Sam nods his head again, firmer this time, and he feels her hand continue its slow, methodic movement over his hard heat. Warm, plump lips are now pressing like scorch marks against the hard muscle of his belly…pink, sinfully heated tongue dipping down the trail of dark hair beneath that…Sam’s lips are parted as he gasps and groans…she finally pushes her lips against the head of his weeping need, giving it a small kiss before retreating again._

_“Ruby…” He hisses through gritted teeth, trying to convey to her his neediness, his desperation for her warmth and comfort. He is so broken, he is so damaged…but she loves that about him anyway. She already knows he is cursed, knows he is a monster, and she will touch him anyway… she will hold him without recoiling. He needs that….he needs that…_

_“Don’t be impatient, Sam…” She teases, playfully, thumb dropping down to stroke against his tightening balls. Sam dips his head back and moans, a pleasurable shock shooting up from the area and into his heaving chest. She then lowers her plush, aching lips, draws one into her mouth and suckles, hand still moving roughly against the length of his cock. Sam releases a choked gasp, knuckles now burning white as his fingers dig into his knees._

_She rolls it around over her tongue before suckling on the other one. It’s so warm and gentle, and Sam’s pink lips part as he releases a low moan, hands drifting up to tangle into her hair and give a rough tug. This only serves to encourage her further, and she is soon sinking full, hungry lips down onto his throbbing length, taking him in all warm and wet, hand still dragging against the silky, veiny skin that her mouth cannot reach._

_“Ah…ah…” Sam puffs out, head lolling backwards. He glances down at her, heart catching in his throat and hips stuttering at the sight. Ruby’s dark red lips are stretched tight around him, tongue lapping sinfully against his hard underside, hand pumping tight and secure and building a warm, curling tension in his lower stomach. “Mmmm, R-Ruby…”_

_She clenches her fist around him several times, the disruption in the rhythm making his thighs tremble on either side of her. He is panting heavily now, lips silently parted, broad, muscular chest rising and falling with every stroke of her mouth._

_His length is hard and throbbing with heated pleasure, it ascends up through his stomach and settles in his chest, he is moaning in abandon, digging hungry fingers into night-water hair. She tugs at his heavy balls with her free hand, pulling a strangulated cry from his lips, hips jerking up off the bed and into her hot, awaiting mouth._

_ And damn it, damn it, damn it…he is so damn broken and lonely…and she loves his brokenness, his loneliness. Because she is broken…because somewhere, somewhere deep within those sarcastic, hardened brown eyes is just a broken, lonely girl. A girl who he knows is starting to care about him too, damn it, who he knows needs him just as much. Who can love this dirty, damaged body because she knows what it means to be damaged inside. _

_She knows from his seizing thighs and heightened moans that he is getting close, and so she slides her mouth off of him. She unbuttons her tight, curve-hugging jeans and quickly steps out of them, climbing up onto his lap with an eager enthusiasm. And damn, she has the best ass, firm and shapely as it rubs against his weeping cock.  She is circling her hips, her warm nub sliding against the slick hardness of his length, rough and desperate to get off. Sam leans back and lets her control to tempo, amazed at her beauty and raw sexiness. He can’t help himself, he needs to get her shirt off…trembling fingers unsnapping her bra…needs to see those large breasts fall out in front of him, nipples erect and hard with desire._

_“God…” He cries out, forehead falling against her chest, lips suckling against her, thumb coming up to rub against the other. Her nails are digging into the tight, knotted muscles of his back, she is moaning, making him even harder with desire, arching and twisting as she finally starts to spasm against him. He holds her tight against his heaving chest, giving his hips a few quick jerks, letting his cock slide against her pulsating nub, riding out the last wave of her ecstasy together._

_“Sam…” She gasps, her eyes sparkling with the faint trace of wetness that will never fall. She reaches out to stroke his fluffy brown curls, thumb dipping down to press against his trembling bottom lip, still tight and tense without his release. “Sammy…” She sighs, and he lets her use the name… even though it was once reserved for Dean’s use only…but she is comfort and warmth and it doesn’t feel so wrong hearing it roll past her lips as well. _

_She pulls herself up on his broad shoulders, bending down to capture those trembling lips as she lowers herself down onto his thick, straining cock. Sam buries himself against her chest again, a heavy warmth settling down around him and fogging his brain. When she begins to grind her hips, he is completely lost…lips soundlessly parted, little gasps and grunts spilling past in heightening need, hips stilting and jerking and fingers buried and tangled in her hair._

_“I love seeing you like this…” She whispers in his ear, hips rolling and snapping against him in a building, mounting dance. “I love how you lose yourself in the moments right before you come…” She is rambling on now, in a way Sam has never heard her talk before, but he is too far gone to care…the pleasure and pressure churning within his length and lower stomach…his balls heavy and tightening against him…eyes squeezed shut and sharp cries burning through the silence of the night. “You’re always so controlled, so self-restrained…because you are afraid of yourself, Sam…” Ruby runs her small hands down the length of him, feeling the tremors, the small contractions whispering through his body. “You don’t have to be afraid of yourself, Sam. Not with me. You can just…let go…”_

_Ruby clenches her muscles around him, and grinds down hard, and Sam’s whole body seizes, lips parting as a heated cry pours into her flushed skin, trembling arms holding her close as he is rocked with spasms. His cock pumps into her as he comes heavy and desperate, her hips still rolling against him until he is wrung dry, only stilling when she is satisfied that he has collapsed against her chest in sated exhaustion._

_“I need you…” He murmurs into the slightly salty perspiration of her skin. He can hear her heart from here… thump, thump, thump, thump…it is pumping demon blood through her veins, and he knows that his is doing the same. Broken together. Lonely together. They share their blood, they share their bodies. He knows she will let him drink from her later, knows she is mindful of how badly he needs it. And he has said these words before, but he feels it is important that she hear them again tonight. “God, I need you…”_

_And she hesitates, like she has been doing lately, almost as if she wants to say that she needs him too. He can see it, if only for a moment, can see it in the way her dark eyes flicker in the lonely pale of the moonlight. But instead she gives a sad, broken smile, kissing his mouth with wet tenderness, before cooing softly, “I know, Sammy. I know. I’m not going anywhere.”_

_Three months later, she is telling him that she has betrayed him completely and thoroughly…doomed the world and everyone in it, and the worst part is that she did it, all of it, for him. He is heartbroken, because he realizes she did not trust or love him enough to know this could never be what he wanted. He is heartbroken, because he realizes he no longer knows if any of it was real, her broken love for him included._

_Five minutes later, and she is dying against Sam’s chest, Dean running her threw with the knife, her night-river hair splayed out against him as she fades away…and he squeezes his eyes shut in agonizing grief…she is gone, she is gone forever…he will never know now…he will never know, and she is gone forever._

_Seven years later, and he still has not fallen in love with anyone else._

Sam washes his hands in the restroom, preparing to leave for the night. He has sobered up enough that the warm fog of his drinks has dissipated and he is merely feeling the slight sting of disappointment now. He sighs and glances up at himself in the mirror. He feels a bit self-conscious for having come on to Rowena before, his lips pursing together in a pang of embarrassment as he remembers his eagerness during their earlier conversation. Well, like she said, he wasn’t her type…or at least, her perception of him wasn’t her type, and that was fine. Really. He would go home, take a shower and jack himself off, and then settle in with a nice book. He shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. He shut the water off with a bit too much force and turned to leave.

It was still a nice night outside, the stars still shining brightly in the Midwestern night sky. Sam sucked in a deep breath of air, lower stomach still panging uncomfortably with sexual desire. Damn, he was still horny as hell, but there was nothing to do about it now, it was too late and he was still too embarrassed from his encounter with Rowena. Better to just shake this one off, and hope he could get to his room before Dean stopped him and asked a lot of well-meaning-but-embarrassing questions about his night. _And no doubt Dean would have that easy, sated grin on his face that he got after a satisfying romp in the sheets. Not that Sam wasn’t happy for the permanency and familiarly of his brother’s relationship with Cas—of course he was—it was just that he didn’t need to be reminded of the fact that everyone had great sex tonight except for him._

Sam stops in his tracks, staring at the Impala before him. Rowena is lounging against it, silky red fabric hugging her curves, chest pushed out so that the tops of her milky-white breasts peak out through the plunging low-cut of her dress. Her crimson curls fall and bounce around her small frame and she is giving him a particularly wicked grin.

“My brother’s gonna be pissed you touched his car.” Sam stutters, as those are the only words his suddenly blank mind can grasp onto. _Stupid_.

“He’ll also be pissed I touched you.” Rowena points out, challengingly, a dangerous smile working across her lips. “But who’s gonna tell him?”

Sam approaches her cautiously, hands self-consciously tucked into his pockets. She made him lose a bit of his confidence earlier, and he doesn’t want to get played again. “Thought I wasn’t your type.”

 “You’re not.” She smiles, pushing herself up onto the hood of the car so that she is now perched on top of it. “Shy boy.” She admonishes him teasingly, nodding at the distance that remains between them.

Sam blushes, hating that she took him off his game so completely. He takes a couple of steps towards her, hands still shoved into his pockets. He tries to think of something clever to say, but he is at a sudden loss for words.

“My, what happened to the cheeky Samuel I met in the bar earlier?” Rowena wonders, reaching up a beckoning hand towards him.

Sam glances down at her outstretched arm. She crooks her finger at him playfully, insisting he move closer. He gives a soft chuckle as he closes the distance between them, dimples indenting his cheeks, allowing himself to lean forward into her grasp. She grabs onto a handful of his red-and-black checkered flannel and pulls him down towards her. His lips move into hers, and he feels the electricity shoot through his veins. He braces his hands on the cool metal of the car, against either side of her body, sinking the warmth of his mouth further against hers. He feels a bit of his confidence reinvigorate, a hand daring to venture into those crimson curls. He twists his jaw to the side, ravaging her with his mouth, large hand giving an experimental tug at her hair… _testing to see if she was receptive to something rougher._

A slight moan breaks from her painted lips, her eyes blinking up at him. He blinks back, realizing that several of his shirt buttons have already been undone. She gives him a small, knowing smile and he returns it, delving back in for more wet, breathless kisses.

She opens up his flannel shirt to reveal the black undershirt beneath. She runs teasing hands up underneath the shirt, nails raking against the hard, coiled muscle of his abdomen. He gives a low groan, large hand dropping down to hook one of her legs around his hips, dress sliding up to around her pale thigh. She squeezes her leg against him and he moans against her lips, heartbeat starting to quicken within his broad, heaving chest.

“Sam- _Samuel_ …” She sputters, as he presses hurried kisses across her jawline and up to her earlobe. “ _Samuel_ , we need to-need to take this elsewhere…”

“Motel?” He hisses, blood starting to drain into his cock and press uncomfortably tight against his jeans. He gives a small gasp as her fingers tease against his pert nipple, subconsciously moving his hips forward into the empty space.

She nods, crying out when his hand finds the round of her breast and cups it demandingly. She sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering in desperation. “Yes… _now_.”

Sam hurriedly scoops her up into his arms as if she were weightless, carrying her around to the side door, lips still meshed together without coming up for air.

He finally wrenches their lips a part, gasping slightly, placing her down on the ground in order to open the car door. But before he can get too far, she stops him, grabbing onto the loops of his belt, pulling his hips flesh up against her body, pressing firmly into his hardening length.

“ _Samuel_ …” She gasps, enjoying the pleasured moan that she draws from his trembling lips, grinding against him in tight, small circles. His cock jerks wantingly against her, digging right into her lower stomach, right into the space above her pubic bone. She grips onto fistfuls of his undershirt and murmurs, “…guess you are big allover…”

Sam gives a pleased blush, reaching again for the car door. He gives her a quick kiss, muttering a reminder, “… _motel_.” And helps guide her by the dip in her lower back into the passenger seat of the Impala. _And Dean would be very pissed, but he would also be very enthusiastic that Sammy got laid, so Sam reconciles with himself that it will all even out in the end._ He opens the driver’s side and slides in, only to be pounced on again by lips and roaming hands, and a small, demanding little body all curled up around him. Sam braces his arms around her and gives in to the attack, sinking his back up against the windowpane as she crawls up the length of his body and meshes her mouth into his once more. One of her hands cups his length and starts kneading at it through the rough fabric of the jeans… _and oh, god_ …a sharp cry breaks from Sam’s lips and he is jerking up into her, hands fumbling for the zipper on her dress, mouth already sloppily pressing kisses and suckling at the tops of her breasts.

“ _Samuel_ …” She warns, trying to keep her dress from falling down and revealing the black lacy bra beneath, even as Sam eagerly tries to remove it for her.

“What— _what_ …?” He wonders, desperate to see those sweet little breasts fall out, hands itching to rub them and cup them and make Rowena cry out and moan against his ministrations.

“We’re in—we’re in a bloody parking lot…” She hisses, but it’s really not fair, because her palm is still pressing and dragging against his uncomfortably trapped, weeping cock with just as much enthusiasm. “ _Motel_ …”

Sam groans in frustration, using all of his remaining self-control to wrench away from her, fingers still trembling, mind fogged with warmth and buzzing from adrenaline, and jams the keys into the ignition and floors it for the motel that is located across the street.

“Well, don’t _kill_ us, you bloody giant…” Rowena gasps, fingers gripping into the leather seats as Sam takes a particularly sharp turn into the motel parking lot.

Sam ignores her complaining, exiting the car and rushing around to her side to open the door for her.She glares up at him with one eyebrow raised, their previous session not doing much to temper her attitude, apparently.

“Hope you don’t drive the same way you…” Rowena begins sarcastically, but Sam already gathered her up into his arms, kissing her deeply enough to quiet her down, moving towards the lobby of the motel.

_Sam loves sex, loves the way it makes him feel, loves the way he can make his partner feel. Sex is powerful, and feels great, and he has such a high drive—well, why wouldn’t he have it as much as he can, and with as many beautiful ladies as possible._

_Sam knows he has not always felt this way. He knows there was once a part of him that loved the softness of human connection, the warm glow of friendship, the whispered pillow-talk under the safety of tussled sheets. But he does not find the same pleasure, the same necessity in those things anymore. He finds a woman who loves it rough, and he has her pushed up against the wall of an empty restroom, handcuffed to the pipes and sucking him down until he spills hot into her mouth, hands gripping the sink so hard it cracks in his powerful grasp. He finds a woman who likes it slow and sensual, and he kisses her open-mouthed and deep, and screws her into the mattress for hours, until she comes three times in one session. He finds a woman who likes whips and chains, and he has her tied to the bedpost, blindfolded, wet as hell and moaning like sin as he eats her out, crop slapping up against her thick ass._

_He is everything, to everyone. It doesn’t even matter, because he knows he just loves sex, and whatever shy insecurities stood in his way before are gone. He likes it better this way, he thinks. Less messy. Less complicated. Everyone has a good time, and you don’t have to feel anything. You don’t have to worry about the past… Jess, Ruby, what happened in the Cage…none of that matters anymore. It’s just sex. It’s all just sex._

_Dean says he is soulless. Says everything will be better once he gets his soul back, says that Sam needs to trust him. Sam wonders if that is true. He supposes that sometimes… sometimes he feels as if maybe he is missing something. Maybe he is missing the importance of Jess, Ruby—what happened in the Cage—and Sam purses his lips and shakes his head, wonders if his brother is truly right. Wonders if having a soul will really make everything okay again._

Sam and Rowena stumble through the door of the motel room, Sam’s neck craned down to capture her lips, her small hands still pushing their way up beneath his black undershirt and running eagerly down the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.

The motel room is small and cramped, and smells of cheap cigarettes and booze. Sam is a bit put off at first at the slight germy feel, but he has an eager redheaded witch in his arms and supposes he shouldn’t be too picky. He reaches behind them to shut the door…a faint click is heard, and Rowena is immediately pushing off his unbuttoned flannel shirt, hands gripping onto his broad shoulders. Sam shrugs the shirt off, slight ache in his neck indicating that he needs to get Rowena in a better position _…and wearing significantly less clothes_. He scoops her up in his arms and carries her towards the bed, mouth still meshed against hers in deep, breathless kisses.

She grins against his lips, soft chuckle escaping her as he tosses her down onto the bed _…it creaks loudly, her red curls bouncing around her small frame_. Sam breaks their embrace, glancing down at her, darkened intent now settling in his usually bright eyes.

_Damn, she looked amazing. Small and spunky, bright green eyes staring up at him all challenging and shit. Her red curls all mussed from his hands tugging at them earlier, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling in breathless want. She looked so badass and dangerous…and yet, there was something so small and vulnerable about her too…she was so tiny compared to him, and he liked that. Made him want to take care of her real good._

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He leans down to growl in her ear, more for the effect than as an actual protest. His large hand moves up the round of her belly…fingers trailing against the soft silk of her red dress…thumb gently rimming under the cup of her bra. “See, you’re not exactly my type either, Rowena.”

“ _Please_.” She hisses, arching up into his teasing touch. She gasps when his thumb connects with her nipple… _he rubs it in aching little circles, feeling it all hard and excited beneath the fabric of her bra. It makes his trapped, pressing need twitch with want_. “I’m _exactly_ your type, Samuel.”

“Really?” Sam moves his hands behind her back… _tip, tip, tip goes the zipper on her dress_. He guides her forward so that she is sitting up, then starts working her dress down the length of her lithe, little frame. He feels his heart give a rough thud in his chest… _she is so beautiful. Small, round breasts hidden beneath a black, lacy bra…nice, soft tummy…sharp little hipbones that peak out beneath lacy black panties…short legs that look perfect for wrapping around his hips and holding on while he works her down into the mattress._ Sam swallows, trying to keep his voice even as he states, “I don’t usually prefer witches.”

“You prefer dangerous women.” Rowena smiles, sitting up onto her elbows, red locks all wild and wisping against her flushed face. She leans forward, pushing her breasts together as if inviting him to stare. “Isn’t that right?”

He grins at her, enjoying the way she pushes back at him, keeps him on his toes. His eyes trail the length of her body, something pleasant and warm curling in his stomach. He brushes the top of her panties with his fingertips, soft, pink lips moving down to press a firm kiss just above her navel. “Well...” He murmurs, voice low and husky. “Maybe just a little.”

He slides his body over hers, mouth sinking back down and kissing her deeply. Her hands are in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of his dark brown mane and holding on as he ravages her. His practiced fingers unsnap her bra and helps guide it off her arms, discarding it quickly.

“Mmmm…” He moans, large hand cupping her breast, rubbing it tenderly… _stomach leaping when he hears those soft little gasps and whimpers whispering from between their lips. He needs to do something about these damn jeans, his cock is rock hard, but still uncomfortably pressed against the fabric._

“ _Aye_ …” Rowena gasps against his mouth, her chest arching up into his stroking, caressing hand. She grabs the hemline of his shirt and starts rolling it up the coiled muscles of his stomach while panting, “Not fair that I’m the only one showing any skin, giant.”

“Then do somethin’ about it.” He teases, kissing down the length of her neck. She takes him up on his words, pushing his black undershirt up over his chest… _and he notices the way her eyes widen slightly at the straining veins in his biceps, the broadness of his muscular chest._ She throws the shirt to the floor, giving a breathless sigh, “… _much_ better.” Sam feels her hands on his belt buckle, his lips dipping down to suckle on the skin between her neck and shoulder, his other hand still kneading and stroking against her soft breast.

She lowers his jeans down below his narrow hips, and Sam eagerly kicks them off the rest of the way. _Relief fills his senses, his thick cock now free and curved against his belly._ Sam then gives a sharp grunt… _her hand is cupping his dick through his boxers, palm working him roughly through the fabric, already damp from his weeping arousal._

“ _God_ , Rowena…” Sam moans into the soft skin of her neck, one hand slipping down to her hip, almost as if to guide her body closer towards him. “ _My god_ …”

Rowena bites at her bottom lip eagerly, thumbs looping beneath his boxers and slipping them down over his prominent arousal… _it bobs free, dusky in color and thick with desire._ Sam uses his foot to slip the boxers down his legs and onto the ground. He hovers over her, taking in her small smile of appreciation. _Sam blushes,_ _inwardly pleased at her reaction to his naked body. He has had such a love-hate relationship with it, but he works hard at taking good care of it, making it strong, putting good foods in it, and he is glad when someone enjoys the result._

“Why, I’ll never know why you hide under all those layers.” She grins up at him, soft hand sliding up the length of his hardened cock and circling around the root. Sam releases a low hiss between gritted teeth, chin dipping down towards his chest as Rowena tightens her grip and begins kneading him with her hand.

Sam grounds his hands into the bed and moans, arms straining around the small redhead. His thoughts have all narrowed down to Rowena’s touch… _the aching stroke of her fingers, tugging and pumping him, the molten hot pleasure curling in his core and fogging up his senses._ He is giving hard little pants through parted pink lips, eyes screwed shut… _her thumb circling his tip, her grip tight and dragging against his sensitive length._

“ _Samuel_ …” She whispers into his ear, and it almost makes him lose it. _He’s starting to like the way she says his name, especially murmured all wanting and desperate like now._ Her strokes start to intensify… _and he’s surprised, because these aren’t teasing touches, this doesn’t feel like light foreplay, her touch is filled with purpose._ Sam gives a choked gasp, falling to trembling elbows as his stomach muscles tighten and his thighs begin to tremor. _She doesn’t slow up, instead fingers working him thoroughly, thumb pressing into the prominent vein on his underside and giving a jerking twist of her wrist._

“ _Ah_ …” Sam releases a punched-out sob, hand darting down to still her movement. He can hardly breathe, his chest squeezed with pleasure, his balls tightening and legs trembling. “Rowena, s-slow…slow d-down, I’m gonna…”

“I want you to.” She hisses, almost demandingly. “I’m never the first person in the room to lose control, dearie.”

 _If this was some weird power play for her, Sam couldn’t say he really saw the downside in it for him. Still, he had kinda wanted to come inside of her, all warm and tight and contained…had also wanted to make her come first in several different ways._ Sam cries out, Rowena giving his hard, weeping cock another jerking twist, making his whole body tremble with light, oncoming spasms. He tries to keep his now-weakening resolve, hand half-heartedly trying to slow hers. “Mmmmm…w-wait—”

Rowena seems to sense his thoughts, her touch not relenting. Her body is moving in time with his jerking frame, her mouth parted to match his panting gasps, pert breasts bouncing up and down on her chest as she continues to stroke him towards completion. “Why wait?” She insists, smiling when she sees his body tense and curl inward at her ministrations. “Doesn’t have to mean the night is over, does it?”

 _Even though Sam is almost gone at this point, he still appreciates that she is a woman after his own heart with that statement. He allows the last of his protestations to slip away, allows himself to focus on the touch of her hand, the caress of her fingertips against the hard heat of his arousal, the way she drags her palm up his weeping cock and then firmly twists her wrist and…_ stilted cries fall from Sam’s parted lips, he digs his elbows into the bed, his balls drawn up and tight, his thighs seizing… _he is almost there, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, his breath caught in his heaving chest._

“Samuel…” She breathes out, brogue thicker with her arousal. “I want you to come on me, Samuel.”

 And she gives him one last twisting jerk of her wrist, and Sam bows his head down and gives several punched-out cries. His whole body seizes as his senses fade to black, then his lower stomach is contracting, his thighs trembling, his whole body wracked with delicious spams… _his cock is thick and hard…he is filled with a wave of pleasure and relief as he spills onto the skin between her breasts._ He moans loudly, as several more waves wash through him, each time spilling himself onto her arching chest.

He releases a trembling exhale, falling all sticky and messy on top of her, crushing his gasping mouth into hers and drinking her down all wet and hungry. She is beyond ready for him, hands delving into his hair, hard nipples sliding against his broad chest, legs coming up to wrap around his hips and buck into his softening cock.

“And what are you gonna do for me, giant?” She demands, teeth nipping at the corner of his neck, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. She is sticky against his chest hair, as she clings onto him, her breasts still glistening with his release… _and Sam really should clean up the mess, but they both seem to be enjoying this too much._

And Sam knows exactly what he is going to do for her, releasing her lips with a loud _smack_ , kissing hungrily and demanding down the length of her heaving chest…the round of her soft stomach…nibbling at the sharp ridge of her hipbone, making her hips buck up towards his awaiting mouth. Sam presses his nose and mouth down at the top of her black panties, worries the lace between his teeth, hears her moan with anticipation above him. _And truth be told, this is his favorite part of sex. He loves going down on women, loves making them moan and whimper and convulse around his tongue and lips._ He hesitates, drawing out the anticipation, before he starts slowly lowering her panties with his fingers and teeth.

Rowena throws her head back into the pillow and blinks up at the ceiling… _he smiles inwardly, he hasn’t even touched her intimately yet_ …and he knows he has his witch exactly where he wants her.

_Sam awakes from his nightmare with a sudden cry, drenched in sweat and covers tangled around his legs. His heart is racing as he sucks in deep breaths, he touches a hand to his chest and feels himself. He is still here. He is still whole. He is not with Lucifer in the Cage. He turns to his left, breath caught in his throat and eyes wide, before relaxing an inch. Yes, Dean is still here with him too…sleeping not more than six feet away. Sam is still in the motel room that he and Dean fell asleep in last night._

_He starts to calm his heart rate, sticks his head between his drawn up knees and focuses on breathing, just as Dean had told him to do the other day. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. He forces the words through his brain, trembling hands clutched around his body, not sure he believes what he is saying, but needing something repetitive to center himself._

_Sam gulps in a shaky breath, hesitating…something is wrong. His thighs…they feel wet, sticky…Sam feels white hot panic rush up into his throat as he throws the covers off, pulls down his yoga pants to inspect himself. He releases a dismayed cry. He is…he is bleeding, and his thighs are coated with it. Sam starts gasping, hot tears in his eyes, as he reaches down to touch himself…he has a tear below, and the blood is dribbling out and sticking to his skin….Sam glances down at his retreating fingers…they are stained dark red, but there is also the palpable smear of a pale, milky white._

_Sam’s whole hand starts shaking, his mouth parting in silent horror. He jerks forward, retching, the sickening realization bubbling up from deep within him. He flings the covers off of his trembling body, stumbling in a rush to the bathroom, on his knees and vomiting before he can even shut the door behind him._

_“What, at least I didn’t wake you up.” Lucifer taunts in his head, all cheerful and smug. “Thought you wanted me to take care of that morning wood…”_

_Sam jams his thumb down into the scar on his palm, one of the coping methods that Dean had taught him after Sam lost his marbles during his Hell tour. “You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine…” Sam whispers repeatedly, digging into the scar and watching as Lucifer flickers and disappears before him._

_Sam sits back on his heels and sighs, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at his mouth. He glances at his thighs, hesitantly reaching down to check himself again…breathing an uneasy exhale when his fingers touch the skin. There is no blood, there are no other bodily fluids. There is not even a tear. He is still here. He is still whole. Lucifer did not touch him this time._

_Sam shrugs his shoulders, still feeling a deep sense of shame and uncleanliness. This time it was just a hallucination, but not too long ago, not even a year ago, it had been all too real._

_He turns on the shower, lets the steam fill the room, memories of the Cage flooding his vision. He had wanted so badly to shower then, to scrub Lucifer off of him after every violation, to reclaim his body for himself. Well, he could do that now…he could do that now. The water is hot as it hits his skin, because the Devil burned cold, and he presses his forehead flesh up against the shower wall as his skin flushes pink under the prickling heat._

_Sam takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying again to center himself. He feels the empty deadness that has settled inside his body. His healthy drive, his enjoyment of sex, cut out of him completely. He has not been with anyone sexually since his return from Hell…in fact, the thought of it is painful and unthinkable. Any touches and sensations would be too tied-up in the traumatic sense-memory. He wonders briefly if he could even get it up anymore, he gets erections in the morning, but not out of any sexual desire, not for a while._

_He rubs the soap in his hands, gathering it into a warm lather. He scrubs at his reddening skin, digging his fingers into the rough knots of his tense muscles. Ruined, ruined, ruined. He shakes his head as if to break up the words from forming in his mind. But they were true, he is ruined, and in so many different ways. It wasn’t just sex with others that repulsed him now, he couldn’t even touch himself anymore. He hated getting hard and he hated orgasm and he hated…hated ejaculation. Too many times those things had happened to him when he was in the midst of getting ruined, too many times his body had reacted to the touch-stimulation when his brain was screaming and pleading for it to end…just a helpless vessel being raped by something strong and violent...and hot tears run with the water droplets as Sam releases a low, muffled sob against the throbbing pound of the water._

_“Sam?” And Sam freezes, because he knows that is Dean, knows his brother is wondering why the hell he is taking a shower at three in the morning. “Sam, you okay?”_

_Sam feels a sharp panic dig into his gut. He has told Dean a few Hell memories here and there, just enough to take the edge off whenever it got really bad. He hasn’t told Dean everything though, hasn’t told him what else Lucifer did to him while in the Cage. Dean can’t know. Dean won’t ever feel the same about him, Sam is certain. He’ll be disgusted, he’ll be ashamed. He’ll forever see Sam like Sam sees himself now… ruined, ruined, ruined. _

_“I’m fine!” Sam’s calls out, but his voice breaks slightly, and he knows that Dean will not be satisfied with that answer. He clears his throat and tries again, sputtering against the heat of the water. “I’m fine—fine—go back to sleep, Dean.”_

_But Dean is still not satisfied, and soon Sam is sitting across from Dean on the bed, eyes staring pointedly at the ground and lips pursed together in quiet displeasure._

_“Talk to me.” Dean insists, staring at Sam with green eyes that bleed hurt and worry. “You jumped outta bed, man, then you were throwin’ up. Don’t tell me that’s fine.”_

_ Ruined, ruined, ruined _ _. It buzzes in Sam’s head like an angry bee. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. He counters, tucking the other words away, compartmentalizing them into the bin marked “Cage” in his brain. He remains thoughtfully quiet, before glancing up to face Dean, “Really, I’m…”_

_“Don’t say it.” Dean snaps, but his voice betrays his concern. He softens slightly, tilting his head to the side knowingly. “You were seein’ him again, weren’t you?”_

_Sam feels a painful squeeze in his throat. In his mind, he sees Dean’s green eyes filling up with aching pity…but still satisfied in knowing that Sam put up a good fight…eyes bleeding doubt and shame once he learns that after one hundred and sixty years, Sam had stopped struggling out of pure self-preservation. Only one word for Sam now. Ruined, ruined, ruined._

_“Yeah, I don’t think Dean’s gonna have a great reaction to that one.” Lucifer agrees, sitting next to Dean and across from Sam. He chews at his fingernail in fake concern, “Kinda changes your perception of a guy once you find out he was the Devil’s bitch.”_

_Dean sees Sam is getting distracted and grabs at his arm. “Hey, hey!” He gives Sam a small shake, pulling him away from Lucifer. “C’mon, talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”_

_Sam sucks in a deep breath and presses down on his scar. He needs Lucifer gone for this, waits until he disappears completely before turning back towards his brother. “Dean...” He catches Dean’s gaze, falters and stalls as his throat tightens. “I can’t.”_

_Dean’s eyes widen in surprise, lips parting in uncertainty. “What, like I ain’t gonna understand?” He gives a sad smile and squeezes Sam’s shoulder, reassuringly, comfortingly. “C’mon, I’ve been to Hell. I know a few things about it.”_

_“Not everything.” Sam grimaces, swallowing heavily, glancing up at Dean’s darkening expression. “Not…not some things…” He hesitates, a heavy anxiety washing over him as he bounces on the balls of his feet, his chest constricting around him. He feels as if he is imploding inside, his heart getting squeezed by concaving ribs. He can’t breathe, can’t swallow, can’t tell Dean…he can’t tell Dean…hell, he can’t even look at Dean._

_Dean’s face is dark with bristling anger now, but not at Sam. “What did he do?” Dean finally demands, hesitating when he sees Sam flinch away from the words. Dean purses his lips together in worried frustration, lowering his voice and pressing, “C’mon, what did he do?”_

_Sam gives a shuddering exhale, glancing up at Dean with pained, tear-stained eyes. The tears dribble down his cheeks as he continues to bounce on his feet, his hands trembling on his lap. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, he tries several more times but he is rendered voiceless. Ruined, ruined, ruined, ruined. Dean can’t know you are ruined, Sammy._

_“Sammy…” Dean breathes out, bright eyes now bleary and watery with gathering tears as well. “Sammy, look, I saw…” Dean swallows heavily, his voice catching in his throat. He looks up to arrest Sam’s gaze, eyes burning with gutted knowledge. And with a sickening thud, Sam realizes that Dean suspects already. “I saw how you…checked yourself. Before you left the room. And I think…” Sam releases a broken sob, but Dean catches his little brother’s arm and pushes the words out anyway, “I think we need to talk about this.”_

_Sam wraps his arms around himself, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s compartmentalized all this shit, tucked it away in the bin marked “Cage Sammy.” This is not something that he can face tonight, this is not something that happened to the part of himself that is sitting right here, right now on this bed in front of his brother. He can’t…he can’t… ruined, ruined, ruined, ruined._

_“Sammy…” Dean breathes out, pleading and desperate, tears still stinging his gaze. His heart is broken for Sam, and seeing that breaks Sam’s heart too._

_Sam squeezes his arms against the overwhelming pressure in his chest. He  knows he needs to push the words out for Dean…needs to go deep inside of himself and drag the vile memories up and purge them…he is shaking and he can’t breathe and he can’t swallow and he is shaking, shaking, shaking, but he has to be brave once more, because Dean needs this from him._

_“He…” Sam shakes his head, more tears dribbling down his flushed face. He tries again, lips parting… voice catching, silence clogging up his shuddering lungs…before losing his nerve, his eyes darting up towards the ceiling and lips quirking._

_“Hey, hey, look at me.” Dean urges, both hands on Sam’s shoulders and steering his little brother towards him. It’s just Dean now, the rest of the room, the rest of the world blocked from Sam’s view. “Look at me. I’m right here. I’m right here, okay?” They have taken turns throughout their lives saying these words to each other like a hallowed refrain, knowing they can make it through all the pain, all the horror, all the brokenness and trauma, but only so long as the other is standing by their side._

_“You know it doesn’t change anything, right?” Dean murmurs… only person in the room, only person in the world. Only opinion that matters, at the end of the day. “You know I ain’t gonna think any differently, right?”_

_Sam tries to give Dean a small, appreciative smile but it dies on his trembling lips. Finally he sucks in a deep breath… he needs to be brave once more, because Dean needs this from him…and exhales with a catching, broken whisper, “…I mean, it’s stupid, because he did so many things. Things that were just as…” Sam trails off, the words trickling out and cutting at his lips, “But this…” He shakes his head, eyes locked on Dean now, because he needs to feel like his brother is the only person in the world. The only person who will ever hear these words, who will guard them just as carefully as Sam does. “…he wanted to humiliate me, to make me feel…worthless, powerless…” Sam gives a hopeless shrug, trying to keep himself centered in this room, trying not to let the sickening smell of sulfur and the feel of ice on his skin creep back into his senses. “…he used to take me and…” He tries to block out the sensation of Lucifer’s damp breath against the nape of his neck, the pained twisting in his stomach, tries to keep Dean his anchor as he breathes out, tears dripping in heavy blinks, “…he ruined me, Dean. What he did, taking me like that and making me…” Sam falls silent, an angry, broken sob wrenching its way past his chest and clawing painfully at his throat. “…he ruined me.”_

_And that’s all he can say before he covers his hands with his face, rocking into them with all the shame and humiliation and horror that has been pent up inside of him for all these months since regaining his Hell memories. But Dean is right there… only person in the room, only person in the world…pulling Sam into a crushing hug, arms wrapped tightly around his back. Sam allows himself to fall into the hug, the pressure in his chest dissolving into heaving sobs._

_“Sammy, no.” Dean insists, arms wrapped secure and firm like a warm blanket, and Sam buries his face into Dean’s shoulder, his tears dampening the fabric of his older brother’s shirt. Dean gives a heavy sigh, but his voice stays firm as he reiterates, “No.” He pulls Sam a little closer, makes Sam feel the good-squeeze in his lungs, before giving one last adamant, “Never.”_

_And it is small, so very small, but Sam holds onto that “no.” That “no” gets him through nightmares, through Lucifer’s hallucinated tauntings, through the small ruined, ruined, ruined whispers that chant through his brain like a broken record._

_Sam holds onto that “no.” He guards it, keeps it planted in his heart. And it takes him awhile, years in fact, but eventually…eventually he finds he can start to believe in it. And even more time passes, but eventually…eventually he finds he can say it back to himself._

Sam moves a pillow under Rowena’s hips, propping her now exposed heat up towards his face. _Lifting a woman’s hips while eating her out leads to a more intense climax. He knows, he’s spent a lot of time over the years with his head enthusiastically between women’s legs._ He leans down to capture her lips again, lingering slightly this time, allowing the anticipation to build. Then he is trailing kisses down the length of her neck, pressing them sweet and slow across her chest, finally pausing so that he can pay special attention to her breasts. His lips latch around her nipple and he hears Rowena give a shaky moan, back arching and guiding her chest further into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it, all hard and erect in his warm mouth, his hand coming up to massage at her other breast. She is keening now, hands lifting above her head and fingers bunching into the pillow found there.

And he loves how her breast feels in his large hand… _so soft and pliant, his thumb skimming and rubbing against the pebbly hardness of her darkened nipple._ His lips suckle roughly against her other nipple, and she is crying out and lifting her hips towards him in desperation, her untouched heat pooling with blood and longing for attention. Sam can barely take it himself, his arousal twitching at her eager whimpers, his mouth dipping down to pepper her chest and stomach with hungry kisses, wet tongue drawing a line from her soft belly to her pubic bone.

“Don’t…don’t be a _tease_ , Samuel.” She admonishes, breathlessly.

“Be patient.” He retorts, breath caught in his throat as well. She purses her lips at him in mock annoyance, which pleases him inwardly. _The build-up is half the fun, after all._ _All that warmth and fullness spreading across her heat and centralizing in her throbbing nub. Waiting for him to put his mouth on her, his tongue swirling and hitting that sweet spot, making her tremble and convulse, making her cry out his name._

Sam dips his head down so that his nose is barely brushing against her sensitive heat, taking in a deep inhale of her intoxicating scent… _heady and radiating sex, the scent is thick and clings to the air, he can almost taste it as he brushes his lips ever-so-gently against her nub. She twitches against him, and he feels his dick thickening again with renewed excitement._ A pleasured pang clenches in his gut, as Rowena coos and gasps above him. His pink lips dip down to close around her thickened clit, he suckles gently… _stomach tumbling as her hips move up into his warm mouth, guttural moan sputtering from her parted lips_. He hollows his cheeks to intensify his suckling… _her clit is thick and warm in his mouth, and he prods it with his tongue, hearing the first ‘Samuel’ fall from Rowena like a punched-out gasp. His length is getting harder, curving up towards his tightening belly. He ruts his hips against the coolness of the bed sheets, allowing his cock a small drag of relief before refocusing on the task at hand._

He slowly brings up his long index and middle finger, tracing them tentatively against her soft, wet folds. Rowena is shaking with building pleasure, her hands bunched in her crimson curls, her breasts rising and falling with heaving gasps. Her thighs start to tremor around his head when he dips a finger into her opening. He curls it upward and starts to stroke… _this causes Rowena to moan loudly, hips rising off the bed and thighs clamping around his head to keep him locked in place_. Sam swirls his tongue around her nub, prodding and pressing into her sensitive nerve-endings, lips clenching against every small twitch and pulse… _all of his senses narrowed down to the throb of hot blood beneath silky skin, the heady taste sliding over the rough laps of his tongue, desperate mouth drinking her down thoroughly._

“Sam- _Samuel_ …” She cries, hands moving to tangle into his dark brown mane, fingers twisting into his wisping curls. Her stomach is tensing, tightening, her thighs are whispering with growing tremors. Her whole body is starting to flush a light pink, she is pulling his head closer to her heat, gasping and cursing loudly… _and Sam feels a pleasured jolt connect from his groin to his brain, a warm coil burning in his stomach. He knows he is pushing her towards her breaking point, her filter gone, crying out words he doesn’t even recognize in English anymore._

The small wisps of her crimson curls tickle his nose as he continues his work, middle finger joining the index, stroking upward and curling against her inner nerve-endings. Her tight walls are starting to give light, teasing spasms against his fingers as they continue to work her open and stretch her out. He focuses in on her pulsating clit… _thick and hot, it burns within his mouth. He can feel her shuddering all around him, panting and groaning, head thrown back in mounting abandon. His dick is hard and throbbing, trapped between his stomach and the softness of the bed sheets, he is subconsciously sliding his hips forward…desperate to help push her over the edge, to watch as she unravels within the safe confines of his heated mouth._

He feels her hands pushing his head down into her heat… _fingers demanding and pulling at his hair_ …hears her shouts and moans heightening, her clamped thighs starting to shake as she tips precariously on the edge of her release. _And he is determined to get her there, now desperate and mind-blown with arousal himself_. He clenches his lips around the heat of her nub, hollows his cheeks and suckles down hard…lets that burning pleasure intensify into a white-hot explosion… _and Rowena is instantly undone. She comes hard with a heaving sob, thighs trembling and clenching against his head, walls tightening and convulsing around his stroking fingers…he gives a sharp inhale, the sensation causing his cock to jerk and weep several drops against the sheets._ Heart thrumming inside his chest, he rides through her release right along with her, lips still drinking down the spasms that _pulse, pulse, pulse_ within his aching mouth.

“ _God_ …” Rowena shouts, legs still shaking, skin still flushed and drenched in a cooling layer of perspiration. “ _Shit_ …”

Sam doesn’t stop until he is satisfied her tremors have subsided. He watches carefully as she slowly sinks back down into the bed, eyes blown wide and sated, before he finally releases her. He eagerly crawls back up the length of her body, cock hard and pleasantly rubbing against the softness of her belly.

She welcomes his mouth against hers, kissing him with the enthusiasm of a woman who just got eaten out good. _Sam is filled with a welling sense of pride and self-satisfaction; it seems his performance has earned him some very warm and grateful kisses._ Indeed, when Rowena finally breaks away from him, her eyes flutter open with a hazed-over appreciation.

“I’ll…I’ll be _fair_ …” Rowena sputters, hands lightly tracing over the hardness of his muscular chest. “…not many men can do it like _that_ , Samuel.”

Sam gives a small, pleased smile, dimples indenting slightly. His heart is still pounding in his chest as he looks down at her… _grateful that she can give him this tonight, make him feel this powerful and in control. Grateful she can appreciate that although they may not fight on the same side, they both know how to give each other exactly what they need_. He glances her over, taking in her unabashed nakedness, eyes dropping down to her heaving chest… _and it is then that he notes the dried, sticky remnants of his earlier release. He frowns slightly, feeling a small twinge of shame that he had not thought to clean her up sooner._

“Sorry, about that…” He fumbles, nodding towards the mess. He presses a quick, apologetic kiss to her nose and murmurs, “Wait, wait right here, lemme get you a towel…”

Rowena gives a hard roll of her eyes, grabbing his head in-between her hands and pulling him down into a demanding kiss, jaw twisting to fully take him in, tongue pushing heatedly into his mouth. “Don’t ruin the moment, shy boy.” She snaps, through the hot clench of their lips and between gritted teeth. “I want all of _this_ …” She cups his length in her hand and gives it a firm squeeze… _the touch sends him reeling, narrows everything down to the firm grip of her fingers against the thick pulse of his cock._ “…in all of me. _Now_. Got it?”

“ _Shit_ …” Sam growls under his breath, lips still meshed hopelessly against hers. Her words have him all hot and bothered, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of showing it. Instead, he rolls fluidly against her, large hands grappling onto her hips with white-knuckled roughness, guiding her up towards his body with mounting promise. “…such a _mouth_. Not…” He grunts, her pubic bone grinding against the thick heat of his cock. “…not my type at _all_.”

“Mmmm….” Her murmur vibrates against the shell of his ear, legs parting and wrapping encouragingly around slick hips. She presses her lips like sin against the side of his cheek, whispering softly under her breath, “Liar.”

_Sam presses his forehead flat against the shower wall. The warm heat splashes against his skin, making it a dusty pink color. He sucks in a shuddering breath. Left forearm braced above his head, he lowers his right hand…feels his fingers slowly encircle around the softness of his flaccid length. His heart stops in his chest, a clawing iciness settling in his insides. He takes in another deep breath. Baby steps, just like the article online said.  Sexual trauma can lead to erectile dysfunction and loss of drive it said, recommending therapy and patience. Well, Sam was a Winchester, so therapy didn’t sound appealing or plausible…but he did have patience. And one phrase leapt out at him, sounded like something he could handle. Baby steps._

_ This is my hand, I’m in control _ _. Sam reassures himself, and he gives his cock a slow, dragging stroke. This is my touch, I am in control. He hesitantly starts to knead himself with his long fingers…but he stays soft against his palm, not even a jerk or twitch of interest, he is still not getting hard. Sam grits his teeth in frustration, but deep down he knows the truth. Deep down, he knows he really doesn’t want to._

_Sam is mentally feeling better, if not still shaken from the whole ordeal. Still, his hallucinations are gone, Lucifer isn’t going to appear before him anymore, and Sam knows he needs to take care of this now, before he loses something inside of himself for good. He isn’t going to let Lucifer take this from him. He isn’t going to feel cut off from his masculinity, and although Sam knows there is a hell of a lot more that goes into making someone a man than the ability to get it up, he still needs to reclaim this part of himself… for his own sake. Because Lucifer isn’t gonna take anything from Sam, not anymore, not ever again._

_He waits awhile before getting up the nerve again, on a weekend when he is alone in the motel room that he and Dean are staying at. Dean is out getting food and renting a movie, and so Sam figures he has at least thirty minutes to try again. He gets a bottle of lube, grabs some Kleenex, thinks if he can lessen the mess of the situation, his body might be more keen. He thinks about pulling up some porn, but he’s not ready for that… not ready for other people, not even just to watch. He sits hesitantly on the edge of the bed, hand slowly venturing down the front of his pants, lubing up his cock and making it nice and slick against his palm. _

_Another deep breath… in and out, in and out…he tries to stroke himself to the rhythm, tries to tell himself he isn’t broken, he isn’t ruined, he can still get it up, for god’s sake…damn it, damn it, he’s still soft and what if he can’t ever get a goddamn erection again, what kind of broken husk of a man would he be then…Sam tightens his grip and jerks himself with hard, angry pumps of his fist. “Shit!” He growls angrily, jerking his wrist with relentless force. “Shit, shit, shit.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Nothing is happening, except his arm is starting to ache. “SHIT!”_

_Sam slows his hand, surprised at the volume of his voice. He takes in a calming breath, looks down at his still-soft cock. He is embarrassed, and he can feel the frustrated wetness touching the corners of his eyes. When the phone rings, he knows its Dean, and he knows he is done trying for today._

_He leaves it alone for a while, until one morning he wakes up from a particularly pleasant dream about lovely, sweet Jessica. And it wasn’t a sexual dream, but he remembers vividly how beautiful she was in it, blue sparkling eyes, sweet, sweet smile, and gentle lips peppering his face with reassuring kisses. When he awakens, he is already thick and straining, and it causes him to realize that this is a valuable opportunity, that half the battle is already over. He keeps himself adrift in dreamy haziness, keeps Jessica’s lips on his cheek and her fingers caught in his wisping curls, as his hand slips down beneath the covers and wraps around his hardened shaft. He pumps himself slowly, deliberately…one, two, three times…Jessica’s soft blue eyes locked on him with purposeful intensity, and he suddenly feels a warm, familiar flutter curling in his lower stomach._ _He puffs out a sigh of relief, keeps his focus on Jess… she would understand, she would help guide him through this. He feels her hand on top of his, her soft encouragement in his ear. A soft pleasure is starting to spread over him, like warm waters washing up against the shoreline. Jess still has her hand wrapped around his, their fingers interlocked and together they pump his need. She is so beautiful, her golden locks spilling over her tender features, taking in the sight of his quickening breath, his parting lips, the ways his hips are starting to rise and jerk. Sam feels his thighs tremor, his stomach tightening as his balls draws up heavy against him. His length is hard and thick and weeping in his hand, his heart is thudding and getting ready to burst. He quickens his pace, he is fast approaching the edge, eyes squeezing shut in pleasured anticipation…images of the Cage flash behind the black space of his eyelids, he sees himself coming in front of Lucifer, feels Lucifer’s sickening touch against him, hears the mocking laughter in his ears.  Sam feels his hand retreating, heart still slamming against his ribcage. He is slowly backing away from the edge, breath still caught in his throat. And he realizes he’s still too scared to let himself go there. He swallows his thick shame, trying not to beat himself up too much. That was the closest he had gotten in a while after all. And what had the article said…baby steps._

_A few weeks pass, and Sam is pleased to find he can consistently get himself hard again. He just needs to take the pressure off, allow himself to relax against the feel of his dragging palm. He almost comes three more times, but every time he finds himself getting close, he feels the same icy pressure squeezing against his chest, feels the strong sensations slowly tapering off._

_It is a lazy Saturday morning when Sam tries once more in the shower. He lets the warm water beat against his back, allows his muscles to relax against the steaming heat. Jess helps him, and Sam knows she would want to help, knows it is okay to picture her touching him again. He wraps his fingers around his cock and grips it tightly, slowly and deliberately pumping it through his fist. He feels heated blood rushing down and pooling into it, he is thickening, he is growing hard and stiff against his palm. Sam releases a relieved exhale…he presses his forehead against the wall, using his forearm to brace himself. He once again concentrates on Jessica’s hand sliding over his…working him through this, coaxing him to the edge again._

_Sam starts breathing harder, his strokes increasing their intensity. Warm pleasure starting to intermix with the heat of the water, both coming together to beat against his flushing skin. His large hand covers Jess’s entirely as he circles the tip of his length with his thumb…he remembers when they used to shower together, used to lather up the soap and wash each other’s bodies until they both couldn’t take it anymore.  Sam grunts at the memory, feels his lower stomach tightening with pulled tension, feels his whole body starting to give way to light spasms. He remembers lazy Saturday mornings like this, pounding Jess against the wall of the shower, her wet blonde curls all around him, her lips all around him, her cries all around him as she trembled, tight walls convulsing around his length, pulling him over the edge with her…Sam gives a short, stilted cry, his heart racing, his core pulled taut, his thighs seizing…he is right on the edge again, right on the edge but he is afraid to let go. He is afraid, because he still sees the darkness of the Cage, still has the scent of it permeating his nostrils, still worries that letting go means reliving the shame and the fear. And he can’t do that again…he can never do that again._

_But Jess is still with him, and he knows in his heart that she is not Lucifer this time… because Lucifer is gone. Lucifer is trapped in the Cage. Dean saved him, he is safe, and Castiel took away the hallucinations._ _He closes his eyes and imagines her so vividly, forever twenty-two and beautiful and sweet and full of patient understanding. Just like at Stanford. Just like always. And she pulls herself close to his flushed, trembling body…wet lips whispering in his ear, hand still entwined around his own white-knuckled fist…and he hears her as clearly as if she were in the room with him. You need to let go, Sam. It’s okay if you feel ashamed and afraid, but you need to let go. You need to let go before it swallows some part of who you are forever. He’s not here anymore. He’s not in control anymore. He doesn’t own this part of you, and he never will. Sam gasps for air, forearm still grounded against the shower wall, legs starting to shake beneath him. Jessica smiles softly, giving his length rhythmic, practiced strokes…they are doing it together…and he can almost taste her lips as he cries out, heated water pouring into his open mouth, body seizing as his senses go dark, rough spasms rocking through his frame, lungs squeezed and shuddering in his chest. He spills hot and heavy against the shower tiles, blinks his eyes open and watches as it swirls down the drain._

_His legs give out a minute later, and he is sliding down to the ground, knees drawn up and head pressed against them. The water continues to beat against him, the steam clogging up his throat, and his whole body becomes wracked with heaving sobs. He doesn’t even know why he is crying, he is not even sad. But he knows that something broke inside—another wall, he supposes, and the emotions that built fortresses behind it need to flow out and wash down the drain with everything else._

Sam sits on the edge of the bed, Rowena’s legs wrapped tightly around either side of his hips… _and this position takes a lot of physical exertion, but Rowena seems pretty eager to try it out, lips locked on his as she pulls him to the edge of the bed. She murmurs something about taking advantage of the opportunity presented before her, likely because not a lot of men are big or strong enough to pull this position off…still, Sam thinks with amusement, just because he can pull it off didn’t mean it wouldn’t be freakin’ exhausting. _These thoughts quickly leave his head, however, as he hands Rowena the condom he had rooted out from the pocket of his jeans moments ago. She rips it open, discards the wrapper on the floor, and sets to work rolling it down the length of his cock, certain to apply just enough pressure with her fingers to make Sam grunt and splay his hands against her, eager for a more intense contact.

Rowena positions herself precariously above his aching cock. She breathes out softly, nose almost touching his, forearms bracing against his muscular back for support, as she murmurs, “Ready?”

Sam gives a firm nod of his head… _eyes squeezing shut and dark moan cutting past gritted teeth as she sinks her tight walls down and over every last inch of his throbbing length._ She digs her fingernails sharply into his back, low hiss escaping her lips as she lowers herself down, feeling stretched and filled until she is sheathing him up to the base.

Sam and Rowena are both trembling as they cling to each other in a moment of stillness, sharp gasps and tremoring hisses the only sound breaking through the darkened silence.

Sam fights off the urge to start pounding up into her, instead making sure his left hand has a firm grip on her hip, his other hand reaching up to cradle her head… _fingers twisting into her tussled mane and keeping them locked against the base of her crown._ He plants his feet firmly into the ground, and wriggles forward slightly. He glances up at her… _the only thing keeping her from falling backwards being his hold on her, and her grip across his back._ He takes in a shuddering breath, his chest feeling a pleasured squeeze from the sensation of being so warm and securely held inside of her. “Ready?” He murmurs, lips quivering from the tension.

She gives a quick nod, and he starts to push up into her. _Oh god…_ Sam squeezes his eyes shut, the intense warmth spreading from his throbbing dick and up into his tightening stomach. Rowena is breathing heavily, mewling little moans, leaning backwards into his grasp… _made weightless by his strength, she looks exhilarated…suspended in a moment without gravity…Sam grunting, lifting his hips up off the bed, pounding into her, the pressure coiling in her sensitive heat and moving up into the base of her spine._

“ _Ah…_ ” Sam groans from somewhere deep within his chest, grabbing a fistful of red hair and pulling down forcefully. He feels a drop of perspiration gather at his temple, but he keeps rolling his hips, keeps moving deep into her body… _feels her wet mouth on his as they intersperse breathless kisses with pleasured moans and gasps._ “ _Shit,_ Rowena…”

“Harder, Samuel…” She pants against his mouth, anchoring her arms against his back as she continues to drive herself down onto his thick cock, hair falling messily into her parted mouth as she moans, “ _Faster_ …”

Sam takes her up on the challenge, fingers leaving white marks on her skin as he pounds up into her, holding her firm and secure as his hips roll and snap with increasing intensity… _he releases a dark moan, his thighs starting to quiver as his balls tightens against him. His brain is bleary with pleasure, he can only see, taste, touch the woman in his arms, the rest of the room darkening around him._ “You feel s-so good…” He hisses, through gritted teeth… _pushes into her again and again, so warm and soft, he feels her starting to shake from the churning, climbing pleasure_. “Mmm, _Rowena_ … _god_ …”

“Move… _move_ …” She orders, pushing against his broad shoulders with her hands. Sam immediately leans back… _and in this position her pulsing clit is rubbing directly up against his pubic bone with every powerful thrust._ She balls up her hands into fists and pushes against him again, head bowed and eyes screwed shut. “ _Stay—stay there_ …”

Sam gives a sputtering moan… _his stomach clenches eagerly, he likes her sass and the way she pushes him where she wants him to go._ He suckles on her neck, moving up to bite at her earlobe as he continues to meet her thrust for thrust. _This position isn’t giving him enough leverage to get off, but it’s perfect for making sure she gets hers._ She is arching against his chest, head thrown back… _nothing holding her up but his powerful, straining arms_. She balls up her fists against his chest and grinds down against him… _Sam’s trembling pink lips part as a moan tears through him, she is so tight against his length as she clenches and grinds._ He is watching her in awe, heart slamming against his ribcage, breath squeezed from his lungs, as she finally seizes against him. Cries fall from her lips as she abandons herself to his protective embrace, thighs shaking as she convulses against the firm, heated skin of his chest.

As the spasms course through her small body, her inner walls tighten and clench around his throbbing length, making his eyes roll back and stealing the breath from his throat. _So, so, so good. Damn it, if he had just a little more leverage, he could get there too._ He gives a few more jerks of his hips… _riding her orgasm out with her_ …before scooping her up in his strong arms and pulling her down onto the bed in a heap of tangled limbs. She still hasn’t caught her breath, but that’s exactly what he wants… _he rolls on top of her, running warm hands teasingly down the length of her body, settling on her hips, thrumming against them eagerly._

He bends down low, loving the way she is still gasping for breath, his mouth nipping at her earlobe as he murmurs, voice all gravelly and tinged with Kansas-twang, “I wanna take you from behind…” _He wants to ask, because some people aren’t into that and that’s fine, but Sam loves the position, loves how deep and close he can get, how much leverage it gives him._ “…do you like that?” He nips at her bottom lips, teases it between his teeth, “…it lets me go deep, lets me rub you while I thrust into you…” _And these are words that would normally make him blush, but during sexual intimacy he finds a spurt of confidence that usually stays buried within him._ He presses his lips against her neck, sweet and desperate, tasting the light salt of her flushed perspiration. “It feels so good, I’d make you feel so good …”

He is surprised when she chuckles lightly, bringing her hand up to brush sweat-tinged hair out of his eyes. _It is not a teasing laugh though, it is real and somewhat bittersweet, and it brings him slightly out of his dazed arousal._ “Samuel…” She murmurs, thumb slipping down to press into his bottom lip. “Bit too sweet for my taste.” She admonishes, shaking her head, but the softened glaze in her eye seems to betray a different emotion.

Sam quirks his head to the side in confusion at her words, but she merely strains her neck up to capture his lips again, slow and unhurried this time. One of her hands stay locked in the thick curls of his hair, mouth taking him in deep and measured. When she finally breaks away, her eyes are alight with mischief again, and she is slowly moving onto her stomach…slowly crawling up onto her hands and knees. She moves with deliberate precision, allowing him the chance to take in the sight of her rounded backside, before flinging her crimson mane over her shoulder and glancing back at him with hooded, inviting eyes.

Sam quickly scrambles over to her, stomach clenching with excitement. He starts kissing down the back of her neck and over the length of her spine, hand coming around to wrap against her soft belly and lock her into place. _His dick is still incredibly hard and eager, but he waits a moment before moving to fill her again._ He braces his other hand against her hip for leverage, bending down one more time to kiss against the nape of her neck. He breathes in her perspiration, lips still drawn to the heated flesh, tip of his cock just brushing against her slick opening, and giving him shivers. Rowena murmurs her impatience, and so he begins moving his hips forward… _and oh, god…he presses his forehead against her back, inch-by-inch of his heated cock pushing into her warm folds. He releases a shaky exhale, hand closed around Rowena’s tightening belly, as she takes all of him right up to the hilt._

“Ready?” He hisses through gritted teeth…. _because somehow over the course of the night, asking that became their thing. Sam finds he kinda likes it…sure, he likes intense, heat of the moment passion just as well…but he also likes sharing feelings and words during intimacy too. Maybe now more than ever, and maybe Rowena could sense that in him. Maybe she knew the feeling herself._ He doesn’t move until Rowena gives him a firm nod of her head… _and he knows he won’t ask and neither will she, because this event is one night only, and they don’t need to know the damage in each other’s pasts to make up for it in the present._

_Amelia Richardson. She came at a time when Sam needed her desperately, when his entire world had come crashing down around him. She came at a time when he believed his brother—his anchor, his lifeboat, the other half of his soul—to be dead, and when his mind was still healing from a year of fractured trauma._

_She was broken and so was he. Seemed to be a reoccurring theme in Sam’s life, but it worked…whatever they had, whatever they shared together…it worked. It made them safe. It gave them a home. It gave them something to cling to, both adrift in a sea of loss and grieving._

_And so it is inevitable that after taking part in each other’s heartache, followed by sharing two or three glasses of whisky and bourbon together, they end up in each other’s arms, Amelia and Sam both hastily trying to kiss away the brokenness and doubts that linger in their touch, in the taste of each other’s lips, hands haphazardly removing and tossing articles of clothing aside as they make their way from the couch to the motel bed._

_Sam is painfully aware that Amelia is the first person he is intimate with since… since. He is also painfully aware that although the kissing and touching feels good…feels great…he is not getting hard yet. He still has his boxers and undershirt on, but he is terrified that she can tell, worried that having to explain, “no it’s really not you, it’s me” will forever break him in her eyes, make him appear as more of a troubled mess than he already does. And so he focuses instead on touching her, large hand drifting beneath her panties and rubbing at her sensitive heat, focuses on making her breathless with his deep, demanding kisses, focuses on his lips and how she mewls and moans as they suckle and lick at her breasts._

_Amelia gasps for breath, dark brown curls askew, as she tries to push the undershirt up and off Sam’s chest, small hands appreciatively stroking against firm muscle. But in that moment—her fingers clenching around the base of the fabric, something painful catches in Sam’s throat—his heart misses a beat, and he realizes that he can’t be naked. Not completely. Not right now…he hasn’t been that vulnerable, that bare in front of somebody since…since. His large hands encompass hers before he can stop himself, stilling her movements. And she is curious, certainly, but he is filled with relief when she does not question him. She stops…instead, moving her hands up to grip onto his broad shoulders, the shirt left alone. She respects his boundaries without any further prodding, and Sam realizes in that moment how amazing this woman is, how—how healing she is, a heavy lump lodging itself in his tightening throat._

_But despite the safety-blanket-esque security of his undershirt, he is also nervous about her taking the boxers off, because he still is not maintaining his erection…he will harden, lose it…get half-hard, only to lose it again. But they are supposed to be having sex, and he can’t very well stop her any further unless he wants the night to come to an early end… which he does not. He really, truly does not, because he wants this, wants her…damn it, he—he needs this. And so does she. And so his heart is slamming up against his chest with more balled-up anxiety then when he was a virgin, wondering if he can just go down on her—wondering if he needs to perform at all in order for her to have a good time. But Amelia is already on top of him, legs straddling his hips…and she can certainly feel him soft inside his boxers, and Sam’s stomach drops unpleasantly at the look of concern and worry that washes across her flushed face._

_“Sam…” She murmurs, softly, hand reaching down to touch his cheek. He burns red with shame and embarrassment, lungs constricting in his chest, suddenly unable to swallow. How does he explain this, and how much does he say? Only Dean gets to know about what happened with Lucifer, but he still feels he owes her some sort of explanation. But to his surprise, Amelia doesn’t press for any information. Instead, she whispers a simple, “Do you—do you want this?”_

  _“Yes.” Sam feels the words push up and out of his throat with rough insistence, eyes blurring as he cups her cheeks with trembling hands. “Yes, I do. I do, I just…”_

_Amelia’s features soften as she shushes him, doesn’t make him finish his sentence. He watches her with wide, curious eyes as she gives him a small smile, biting down on her bottom lip. “Okay, okay. Can you do something for me then?”_

_Sam nods, earnestly._

_“Touch yourself.” She urges, lips touching the glistening hollow of his neck, hands tangling in his dark hair. “God, I wanna see you touch yourself for me.”_

_She says it so sensually, as if she can’t wait to get off at the sight. But Sam knows better, knows she is doing this for his benefit, to make him comfortable and relaxed. And the realization catches in his throat, presses threateningly wet against his eyes. Amelia. Sweet Amelia, rough around the edges Amelia, but gentler and more understanding then Sam deserves. He sucks in a shuddering breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and allows his hand to drift down into his boxers. He relaxes his tense muscles, allows his thighs to fall open. He releases a raspy exhale as he closes his fingers around the base of his cock and gives it a long, slow drag against his palm._

_He hears the shallow hiss of her breaths… she is enjoying the sight of him jerking himself…and he feels her kisses against his neck, feels her roaming hands as they travel up the sensitive skin of his thighs…fingers tugging lightly at his balls and adding to the good pressure in his groin. Blood starts to drain, hot and pulsating, into his hardening length…he lets her lower the boxers down to his hips, lets her take in the sight of his straining arm, veins bulging in his bicep, his hand sliding up and down, pumping himself thick and curving._

_He lets her slowly replace his hand, lets her guide his cock into her slick, warm opening, lets her start to move and ride him rough and desperate into the mattress. And he is being intimate with someone for the first time since…since. And although Sam usually takes control in moments of passion like this, for now, he is content to let her determine the tempo. She is whispering life into a part of himself that was near death, she is soft, she is warm, she is not pain, or shame, or humiliation, or trauma.  She is good. She is healing._

_He lifts his hand, palm-up, for her to take and she does…squeezes it close as she continues to push down onto him, brown curls mussed and beautiful, face drawn with sweet tension, breasts bouncing against her chest, hips grinding on him, warm walls clenching and dragging against him…and he is moaning from somewhere deep within his chest, making sounds like he hasn’t in almost forever._

_He watches her come undone above him with a sense of heightened awe …muscles seizing, eyes screwed shut, lips burning with soft cries, as she balls up her fists and pushes down into his tightening stomach. She is usually so cautious, so content to hide behind her built-up barriers, that Sam realizes with a sudden start that he is seeing her at her most vulnerable. And this allows his vulnerability to crash through him as well…he is shouting into the darkness, pink lips parted against the side of her perspiring neck, trembling so hard he thinks he may never stop…pulsing into her hot and heavy, muscles contracting and hips jerking with every wave that washes over him. At last he is spent, white undershirt drenched with sweat, sinking back into the mattress, arms pulling her close and safe on top of his heaving chest._

_They lay in tranquility and silence, Sam’s heart slowly calming against her eardrum. He gives a heavy swallow, so many thoughts and emotions sifting through him. A large part of him had believed that he’d never share this with anyone again. The fact that he did, the fact that he actually found a woman willing to work him through it…well, he didn’t have the words right now. And as much as Sam always desired keeping his sex life private from Dean’s well-meaning enthusiasm, he is quietly glad in his heart that Dean would be very happy about this. Dean was of the mindset that nothing was wrong with Sam, he was fine, damn it. Screw Lucifer, he hadn’t done anything that Sammy wouldn’t overcome. And while Sam didn’t always share Dean’s fervent optimism, it had quietly kept him going all of this time. _

_And he does keep going, keeps going right along with Amelia, who has the patience that it takes for him to get to a good place. Soon, the undershirt is coming off…and soon, he is letting her hands stroke him to hardness…and soon, he is getting hard through nothing more than pure arousal, and staying that way the whole night…and soon, he is taking charge in the bedroom…and soon, he is dominant and powerful and in control once more, and Amelia loves it, loves that she is able to heal too, that she is able to be vulnerable, and let her barriers tumble, and to cry in front of him, and together they are beautiful, healing messes._

_It is not quite love, but then again, he hasn’t been in love since Ruby, so in a way, it’s a more comforting state of being. But it also means that it eventually comes time to say goodbye, and that hurts, because he did care…and so did she. And together they fixed up the broken shambles in each other’s hearts and heads, and left each other a little more surefooted than when they had first found each other. So no, it is not quite love, but Amelia…Amelia put in the time, she put in the hard work. She saw Sam when he was still traumatized, when it was coaxing him to an erection through his touch alone, when there were bad days and nothing—not even his own touch—was going to get him there, when that meant loving each other in different ways without penetration, when sometimes it just meant snuggling for the night._

_So that is why goodbye hurts. That is why he’ll always remember that Amelia was the one who saw him broken, but she was also the one who believed he was worth putting back together again. That is why, although Sam comes to have many regrets for the way that year played out, Amelia will never be one of them._

He pushes into her, with deep and even thrusts, the only sound breaking the silence of the night their stilted moans and gasping pants. Sam has both of his hands gripping either side of her hips, angling her back into him, head bent down and teeth grazing the back of her neck. _It tastes like salty perspiration, mixed in with the lavender scent of her perfume._ He buries his nose into her tangled mess of damp red curls, his hips pressing forward… _again and again_ …dragging his length against the slick walls of her warmth at a breathless tempo.

She is still on her hands and knees, pressing back into him, her whole body quivering with tension, pulled taut through her stomach like a rope… _Sam can feel it, can feel her muscles tightening and contracting, can feel the whispering tremors that are starting to flutter within her body as he runs a large hand under her belly, holding her firm against him._ Her hands are fisting at the bed sheets as she bows her head, the pleasure starting to curl up and spread within her.

Sam’s fingers twitch on her lower belly… _if he lowered his thumb just a few inches, he could rub sweet, small circles against her pulsing clit, knows it would be enough to get her off. He knows she wants that, knows she is tense and trembling and dying for it, but he wants to wait, wants to make them both work for it a little bit longer._

He pushes into her deep, up to his base… _closes his eyes, his balls drawn up and heavy against him, his breathing shallow and squeezed in his chest._ He thrusts in several more times… _his dick jerking and weeping with each pump, pleasure coiling and burning in his core._ His mind is beginning to blacken out the rest of the room, to narrow down to only the woman in front of him, only the pushing and pulling of their hips, only the tremors in the cords of his arms, in the sharp gasps falling from parted lips.

She whimpers, head bowed low towards the sheets, hips and ass filling his white-knuckled grasp as he grits his teeth and pumps into her with a quickening pace. _She is clenching her milky thighs together, trying to add pressure against her throbbing heat, and he decides to grant her some relief._ His thumb slips down between her legs… _he finds the hot thickness of her clit and begins to rub in small, deliberate circles._ She jerks back into him… _dark moan vibrating up from her chest._ He continues his soft touch, biting down on her shoulder blade… _pink lips parted and trembling as another powerful wave washes through him—warm and intense and he’s moments from bursting._ He intensifies his touching, pressing firmly against her heat… _her silky nub thick and wet and pulsating in little beats against his thumb._ Rowena arches her back up into his slick chest, cries falling from her as her fingers twist and grasp at tangled sheets. She bucks back against his thick length, and she is gone… _grinding out her crashing release as she shakes and convulses_. _And that’s the third time tonight, Sam thinks, pleased with himself. That’s a job well done, by anyone’s standards._ Sam keeps one hand tucked under her belly, the other rubbing her down until she spent… _tongue on the nape of her neck…warmth and darkness beating at his senses…so close, so close…_

“Samuel… _Samuel_ …” She finally pants, muscles growing limp, little tremors running down her spine… _she’s not moving against him anymore, instead dropping down onto her elbows as if she is tapping out_. “Wait… _wait_. S-stop…”

Her request pulls him out of his half-gone arousal, hips giving a protesting stutter… _he slows to a stop, because you stop when your partner asks you to, but he can’t help but feel a tad shaken._ He is trembling all over, lungs squeezed tight, moments away from his release—and he hopes to god she isn’t really gonna leave him wanting.  Somewhere during all of this, he forgot that they aren’t exactly on the same side, and that the witch did love her power plays. Still, throughout the course of the night, he thought they had found a happy truce in their mutual desire to get laid… _and he did just give her three freakin’ orgasms, he hopes she realizes._

She slides off of him… _still hard as a rock and slick from being inside of her, balls still heavy and drawn up tight against the base of his cock._ He tilts his head to the side in confusion, words dying on his parted lips, but she is already turned around and climbing him with her small, lithe form… _mouth hot and wet and pushed up against his, hand grabbing his wrist and pulling it forward to grasp onto her breast_. They give desperate, bitey kisses… _Sam still not sure where this is going for the life of him_ …and Rowena is pushing him down onto the coolness of the bed sheets, lips trailing down the hollow of his throat as she hisses, “I get to see your face when you come.” She nibbles on his nipple, sending electric jolts through his body as he gazes up at the ceiling and groans. “And I want this big, lovely cock in my mouth, _giant_.”

Sam blinks, eyes-blown with lust, glancing down at her as she slinks between his thighs, licking her lips and breathing him in deeply. He tries to move up onto his elbows, to get a better view of her actions, but she places her palm against his tremoring abdomen to still his movements… _presses him back down into the sheets, tongue coming out to lap at the sharp V-shape that leads from his hip to the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thigh._

Rowena slowly rolls the condom off of him, tossing it in the trashcan near the nightstand. Sam squirms, his length still a thick, dusky red, bobbing heavily against the curve of his belly, leaving a small trail of wetness from his not-yet release. He chokes back a grunt… _not entirely confident that he isn’t gonna blow the moment Rowena’s lips graze against him, he is so over-stimulated and ready_. She nips at the inside of his thigh, hand coming up to tug on his balls… _and god—he squeezes his eyes shut, sputtering for air, fingers grappling and twisting into the sheets beneath him._ He knows what is coming next… _trying to calm both his heart rate and throbbing dick, trying to hold off his impending release just a few minutes longer_.

Rowena closes her lips gently around the tip of his cock, lightly tasting him, sending shivers down the base of Sam’s spine and giving him that weightless feel in his body. She then laps the rough pad of her tongue up from his base, slides it across the prominent, pulsing vein underneath, tastes his silky, warm skin until she is wrapping her lips around the tip again. _Sam gives a heady moan, one large hand coming up to lay across the firmness of his stomach, the other sinking into her tangled curls_. Rowena wraps her hand firmly around the base and squeezes… _and Sam’s eyes roll back, his lips part and he is gasping for air_ …she is continuing to lap at him, to have her little pink tongue circle around the tip of his length… _and he is keening, hips giving shallow thrusts forward, cock weeping small drops and lacking relief._

“God, so beautiful…” Rowena mutters under her breath, and Sam doesn’t know if she’s talking about him or his straining cock, but it doesn’t matter… _he appreciates whichever way the sentiment is intended at the moment._ She sinks her warm mouth over him, palm of her hand still dragging against the thickness of his cock that she can’t reach… _and Sam throws his head back into the pillow, blinking up at the ceiling. His thighs are already giving way to light spasms on either side of her head, and shit, he isn’t gonna last long at all._

“ _Ah…god…_ ” He moans, voice dark and husky. She is hollowing her cheeks and sucking him down, sharp green eyes still catching his with fervent intensity. _And damn, she looks so sexy and he can hardly take it…mouth so warm and lips so tight and firm…and her tongue is prodding at that pulsating vein…and damn it—he pulls at her hair with trembling fingers, his stomach swooping and the warm fog clouding his senses pulling him closer towards the edge._

He is so lost in his near-orgasmic haze, that he almost doesn’t notice what happens next… _the pad of her index finger pressing right beneath his balls…damn, and that pressure feels good, really good, makes him convulse, makes his whole groin seize with white-hot pleasure …and as if bolstered by his reaction, her finger trails a little bit lower…_ and Sam blinks up suddenly at the ceiling, something cold and uncertain starting to sink into his chest, shake him from his blissful daze… _her finger circling and hesitating and asking for permission to enter._

_And behind the darkness of his eyelids, he can sees flashes of blood and pain and semen leaking out between bruised thighs and the crushing, all-consuming weight of his shame. Cold-and-shocked and the sensation wriggles at his conscious now, leaving a worrisome ping in the depth of his gut._

“That’s…that’s okay, you don’t…” Sam sputters, hurriedly pushing himself up onto his elbows, making Rowena release him with a confused _pop_. “…you don’t have to do that.”

Rowena raises her eyebrows at him in confusion. “I _like_ doing it.” She insists, brushing a wayward curl out of her eyes. “And _you’ll_ like it too, once you see what I can do.” She allows an easy smile to pull at the corners of her lips, placing her hands on his chest to guide him back down onto the bed. “Now just lay back and _relax_ , Samuel. Let the master go about her work.”

_She didn’t understand, maybe she thought he’d never done this before. He had, had done it with Jess, certainly, had even done it with Ruby once he came to trust her like that. Sam never believed in rigid codes of masculinity…he knew he liked women, didn’t care if other people, like his brother, liked men too. It didn’t have anything to do with this, with having fun with your partner in bed. But she didn’t understand, he hadn’t had anyone touch him there since… since. And he had never really worked through it…had never really felt brave enough…and he didn’t want to unexpectedly freak out now—and definitely not in front of Rowena._

Sam gives a hard swallow, deciding to be as honest as he possibly can, without going into too much detail. “I don’t let…” He gives a small shrug, shaking his head helplessly… _words dying uselessly on his lips._ He settles for a simple, quiet, “I don’t let people touch me… _there_.”

Rowena sighs, a knowing look painting her features. “Ah.” She purses her lips together… _her own defensive walls starting to raise back up._ “Didn’t think you’d be one to be insecure in your manhood.” She admits, settling back down between his legs. “Not the first time I’ve run into someone less sexually progressive, but I have to admit, Samuel… _bit_ of a turn off.”

Sam bites down on his bottom lip in frustration, reaching out to grab onto her chin before she can take him into her mouth again. _His large hand cups her gently, but firmly, and she hesitates, bright green eyes flashing up at him. They stare at each other in hushed silence, barely breathing, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them._

“That’s not why.” He murmurs, the words coming out soft and shaken. _He can’t say more than that, but maybe he doesn’t need to. Because there’s a look in her eyes now, one that speaks of heartache and betrayal…and walls built up all powerful and secure just like him. And maybe for reasons different from his, certainly, but they needed to be built, brick by brick, just the same._

“Fair enough.” She whispers, pressing her lips down and firmly kissing the patch of skin on his lower stomach. “But maybe I can take away one of those nightmares…” She breathes, slowly crawling up the length of his body… _eyes locked and intense and bleeding with a past of her own_. “…maybe…maybe going forward—maybe you think of tonight instead.”

Sam feels his lips part, but no words fall from them. _Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he can still see flashes of blood and pain and semen leaking out between bruised thighs and the crushing, all-consuming weight of his shame._ He gently guides her back up towards his mouth… _crushes his lips into hers, head giving a small, silent nod before he can stop himself. He thinks…he thinks she’s right, he thinks he’d rather remember tonight._

_He notices her the second time she pours him a cup of coffee. Something about the way she hesitates, delicate hand gripping the pot, causes him to glance up from his computer screen._

_“Reading something interesting?” His waitress smiles…and okay, his stomach does a small swoop, she’s very pretty. Bouncy, golden curls all pulled up into a butterfly clip, and dark blue eyes like nightfall on the ocean. Pink-lip gloss sparkling on a cheery smile and a healthy, curvaceous form. She looks to be around his age too, early to mid-thirties._

_“Not really.” He shrugs, closing his laptop… and it’s not a lie, he’s trying to figure out what they could be hunting, not certain at this point if it is anything more than some random animal attack. “Slow night?”_

_“Well, I’m standing here talking to you.” She teases, and Sam gives a small chuckle as his stomach clenches pleasantly. “More coffee?”_

_They chat on and off for the remainder of the night. Her name is Piper. She’s lived here for about a year now, but she never stays in one place for too long. Neither does he, and he’s just passing through for the night. She gives him that knowing smile, and he shyly returns it. They chat some more, she likes fast cars, which makes Sam smile and mention that he has a 1967 Chevy Impala parked out back. Piper asks him what sort of things he likes…and when he says good conversation over a warm cup of coffee, she chuckles as if that’s a line he uses on all the girls. When she realizes he’s being sincere, she gives him a small grin, leans close enough that he closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of her perfume and strawberry shampoo, and she whispers in his ear that she gets off work in an hour, if he’s willing to wait that long._

_ He feels his heart skip a beat in his chest. Damn right he’s willing to wait…he’s been waiting for years to rediscover this feeling, after all, he can stand to wait one more hour. _

_He waits and drinks his coffee, stomach tumbling, unable to touch the research now that he knows where the night is heading. He waits until she cashes out, still dressed in her waitress uniform, and meets him at the door, all smiles and breathless chuckles._

_They make it as far as the Impala before she wraps her arms around him, jumping up on her tip-toes, and kisses him deep and wet and eager. He swings her around in his arms, has her body pushed up on top of the hood of the car, mouths meshed together, her hands bunched up in his flannel shirt, legs moving around to straddle his hips._

_Sam has had hookups over the past two years, but they were fleeting and interspersed with self-loathing and a body that continued to lose weight and muscle as he became increasingly obsessed with the need to save Dean from a terrible curse. But it is a new day now. Time has started to heal old wounds, life experiences have made him grow in patience and sureness, Dean is safe and whole, Castiel is family and secure in their home, and Sam is feeling…confident. Confident and…and happy and his body is returning to health and its familiar sturdy build. And all of this has led to tonight…and for the first time in a very long time, Sam is able to let go and feel the beauty of making love, loving his body while loving hers._

_They are desperate to touch and hold, and Piper already has her fingers on his belt buckle, and he already has his hand tangled in her hair, his other hand dipping down to cup at the fullness of her breast. She is moaning and gasping into his mouth, and he is crazy with want…hard as a rock and pressed firm into the soft cotton of her damp panties, feeling like a man in his twenties again, libido revving up with new life._

_She doesn’t want to wait for a hotel, which is good because neither does he, and she already has one of her hands down the front of his pants… fingers brushing against the wet tip of his cock, already weeping over the elastic of his briefs. His tongue presses against her teeth as he hisses out his pleasure. And she reminds him she loves fast cars, and that’s all it takes…he is rummaging in his duffle bag for a spare blanket, fingers trembling as he spreads it across the back seat of the Impala. The blanket solves two problems: he wants Piper to be comfortable and warm, and he doesn’t want Dean to throw a bitch fit if the leather seats get stained._

_She climbs on top of him all sexually confident and vibrant, and the door is barely pulled shut before she is pulling his pants down over his hips and to his ankles. Sam pops open the buttons on her uniform with practiced index finger and thumb, his other hand tossing aside the clip that is keeping her hair held up in place… letting those golden ringlets fall at the same time those beautiful, round breasts do. He instantly takes her nipple into his mouth and he has her moaning, grinding and rotating her pelvis against his straining, jerking cock._

_It’s getting to that point—that point where his dick is giving weeping throbs and their touches are both everywhere and burning, and he just needs to be inside of her—and so he is about to tell her where he keeps his ‘just-in-case’ stash of condoms, when she pulls one out of her purse. Sam raises his eyebrows at her, giving her a small, impressed grin._

_“I always come prepared.” She whispers in his ear, words interspersed with bitey, breathless kisses. She runs her fingers through his thick, dark hair and tugs… Sam shouts into the darkness, breaths coming out shuddery and uneven. “Just in case I meet some tall, handsome stranger like you.”_

_ Damn. She was sexy. _

_And soon she is riding him in the backseat of his brother’s car on a moonless night…their gasping moans the only sounds breaking the silence…and she looks as if she is untethered from gravity’s pull…bouncing up and down, swooping and grinding her hips and taking him to the precipice of his climb. His eyes are closed and his pink lips are silently parted, his feet are crunched up against the side of the door, but he is too lost in a haze of warm pleasure and growing bliss to care. He hasn’t felt this way since…he doesn’t even remember. He feels good, he feels confident, about sex, about his body and sharing it with someone else. It’s—it’s a goddamn reawakening, is what it is, and Sam once thought he was too old, too damaged to ever reclaim himself and his sexual nature in such a powerful way._

_She comes like a tempest, releasing shaken, heated cries, bearing down on him with eyes screwed-shut and lips pursed tight. He comes harder than he has in a while, back of his head thrown back and pushed up against the other door, pink lips parted and giving punched-out shouts, spilling hot inside of her, trembling allover._

_They kiss and snuggle and nuzzle against each other, which just feels so damn nice. Then they talk, and whisper, and chuckle, and that feels even nicer. More than anything, Sam loves the feeling of having a friend, someone to share thoughts and ideas with. He tells her about his brother—smart and funny—and how they travel together over the length of the Midwestern states, just the two of them, free and untethered. She says it sounds like a good life, she talks about a sister who is also the funny one, makes her laugh until she cries. They chuckle to themselves, before Piper climbs on top of him, kisses him deeply and tells him that he seems smart too…smart and funny and sweet, and she likes that a lot. He says that she is fun to talk to and—and she cuts him off there, kissing him with such breathless enthusiasm that he feels his cock twitching and swelling and curving heavy against his belly again._

_He is thrusting deep and even within her, and she is gripping onto leather seats, toes curling and head dipped back in ecstasy. It is an enclosed area, all six feet and four inches of Sam’s broad build hunched over her, muscles contracting and pushing forward, Piper’s legs thrown up around his shoulders in an effort to conserve space. They hear the peepers echoing in the distance and an occasional train whistle, but other than that, the roadway diner’s parking lot remains dark and undisturbed._

_He finally hits that sweet spot, watches as she clenches her legs around him and throws back her head in a cascade of golden curls. He buries his face into the side of her neck, moaning loudly into the damp darkness, feels the touch of her delicate hands as she holds his quivering body close, allows all of the tension and spasms to drain out of him._

_They hold each other close and whisper into the darkness. Sam talks about the stars and how old they are and Piper chuckles and asks if he’s a nerd. He blushes and admits that he supposes he is, but she murmurs that it’s okay, she was a mathlete is high school. She still likes numbers, likes to play around with them in her head. Numbers make sense, whereas people don’t. Sam can agree with her there. He tries to stay awake, because he enjoys the conversation, but he is already drifting off to sleep. Piper doesn’t try to wake him, instead she presses soft lips to his temple and holds him close to her chest._

_He wakes up around three in the morning, finds her snuggled up next to him and sound asleep. He smiles to himself, feels his heart melt. She looks so peaceful and beautiful. He reaches out with long fingers, lets them drift lazily into her soft blonde hair. His movements are not as smooth as he would like, however, because soon Piper is scrunching her nose and blinking big, tired eyes up at him. He pecks her nose apologetically, which leads to them kissing warm and open-mouthed even more apologetically, which leads to him crawling down between her spreading legs, mouth on her inner thigh, long finger dipping into her wet opening, hot lips wrapping around her sensitive nub, and going down on her very apologetically._

_She seems to accept the apology, sweat-drenched and trembling, and giving him those grateful, breathless kisses of a woman who just got eaten out good. Sam feels his heart swell in his chest, fingers interlocked in her hair, as she murmurs her praises through shuddering gasps._

_They talk a little bit more, and he finds out that her dad left home when she was seven. It was just her, little sister, and mom…and mom was great, but sometimes she drank too much and that made it hard. She left home when she turned nineteen, and Piper feels like maybe she’s been running ever since, doesn’t know if she’ll ever stop. But life is too short to cry about the cards you’ve been dealt…better to fill it with laughter, and good books, and her beloved cat—Charles—and…and gorgeous men. Sam blushes, mentions that home wasn’t always easy for him either. He ran too, ran for a long time. Finally found a home with his brother, finally tried to accept some of the things about himself that he can’t change. Piper says he’s a good guy, which makes him blush. She says he’s even better at going down on women, which makes him blush even more furiously. She chuckles, murmurs that she was lucky he sat at a table she was waiting.  The universe can be funny like that. Sam nods, says he feels lucky too. Whispers that he needed this, tells her that tonight has meant so much to him. Piper kisses him sweetly, snuggles up against his firm chest, and tells him not to get all mushy. Sam feels a bright smile pull across his lips, actually touching his dimples. He settles down to sleep… tonight was a very good night._

_Much to Sam’s embarrassment, Dean discovers them in the morning, and likely this will now be an all-day event of gentle ribbing and well-meaning enthusiasm. But Dean seems to sense what this means to his brother, granting Sam a moment to wish Piper farewell._

_But both Sam and Piper aren’t great at goodbyes. Sam tries to give her his number, because he enjoyed the conversation and the friendship as much as the sex, and maybe they could chat sometimes, and maybe he could call her the next time he and Dean are rolling through town. But Piper slips her small hands into his, gets on her tip-toes and kisses him on the cheek. Gives him a ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid’ smile and promises that she’ll always remember last night. And Sam realizes then that Piper is still running, still traveling along an interminable road and not exactly sure what home looks like._

_But Sam knows what home looks like. It looks like Dean, singing and teasing, taking away Sam’s shy embarrassment and making him warm with laughter. It looks like Castiel, calling on the phone, endearingly eager to help solve the case, even as they urge him to watch Netflix and heal. It looks like the Bunker, filled with books and research and things that make Sam feel content and whole and happy. It looks like the Impala, his childhood home filled with both comfort and sad loneliness…but also filled with later memories of taking on the world side-by-side with his big brother. It looks like…it looks a lot like Sam._

_And Sam wonders, wonders for the first time seriously since Jess…. for the first time quietly since Ruby…if he finally has enough wholeness in his home…wholeness in his heart…to open it up again to share with someone else._

Rowena is coating her fingers slick with lube, watching Sam carefully as he lay, panting and sprawled, on the tussled sheets before her. _And witch’s business, my ass, Sam thinks. She was looking to get laid at that bar too, why else would she have brought lube with her._ His thoughts are quickly pushed aside, however, as Rowena slowly crawls over him again…dips her head down low to hungrily drink in another deep, unhurried kiss.

_She positions her leg between his thighs as they kiss, Sam groaning as his thick cock drags heavy against her as she continues to kiss him down, weeping wet droplets that stick to her perspiring skin, balls heavy and full as she feels the heft of it slide against her._

“God, Samuel…” She breathes out, un-slicked hand giving feathery touches to his darkened nipple… _and his whole body is crackling with unresolved tension, little flames of heat and pleasure licking at every nerve ending._

“ _Touch me…_ ” He hisses in a shuddery, uneven tone, hand leaving her body and coming up to tug at the root of his own curly, dark mess of hair _._ “ _Shit, Rowena, t-touch me…”_

And his desperate plea seems to have an effect, as she slides down in-between his thighs, placing kisses against his firm chest and tightening stomach muscles, fingers teasing his jutting hip bones as she settles herself before his aching cock. _Long and thick, it is still a dusky red, curving snug against his belly, leaving the small dark trail of hair on his stomach damp._ Rowena drinks in the sight for a moment, before settling on her elbows, bending down low and running the rough pad of her tongue against the underside of his straining length. Sam releases a low grunt, back arching into the coolness of the bed sheets, one hand still locked in his damp hair, the other laying heavy against his quivering stomach.

“Ready?” She whispers into the darkness, and Sam gives her a small nod of his head. Rowena hesitates for only a minute more, before moving forward… _taking as much of him as she can into her warm mouth, hollowing out her cheeks and sliding down his length in deep and practiced strokes of her lips_ … _tongue slipping around his weeping tip and making him sputter and choke on heightened pleasure._

She continues her administrations, deep and even… _and Sam feels his stomach tightening, his chest squeezing the breath from his lungs. His lower belly and groin area is alight with a warm fire, he is trying to breathe but he can only moan and hiss her name instead._

_He feels when she moves her slick finger to his entrance, rubbing the area gently, prepping him for entry. He feels his heart skip a beat in his chest, feels the uncertain ping in his gut again. But he wants this…he wants this, and on his own goddamn terms. He just needs to focus on breathing…breathe, breathe, relax…breathe…and oh, god—she must have sensed his thoughts, her tongue skimming against his tip in a way that makes him forget what she is doing below, makes him see nothing but darkness and waves of heated pleasure._

She works her index finger into him… _and Sam sucks in a deep breath, focusing on the fact that he controls the situation…this stops if he wants it too—but he doesn’t want it too. He wants to feel her finger inside of him, wriggling and stretching him, and giving him little nudges of tingly, coiling warmth._ “Feels nice?” She hums over his thick cock, still throbbing between her lips, making him bite his bottom lip and give a low, hissing whine.

He relaxes enough that she slips in her middle finger too… _and—and god, he hasn’t felt this way in years. He vaguely remembers the pained knots in his stomach from a lifetime ago, knows he was afraid the sensation might return, but this…this feels good, this feels like a warm fullness in his cock, in the depths of his heated belly._

“Good… _good…_ ” She rumbles soothingly against his dick, making his hips jerk up and his head sink back into the pillow. She curls her index and middle finger within him… _and she hits that sweet spot, fingers nudging against it…_ and Sam feels white-hot pleasure surge up from his cock and curl tightly in his stomach… _feels his toes curl as his fingers scrabble to dig into the pillow behind him, loud, shocked moans falling like a stream from his gaping mouth._

Her other hand cups his balls, weighs it all heavy and tight within the slight tug of her fingers… _pinkie, ring, middle, index…a small pull runs through each finger, giving him a warm jolt._ Her mouth is still sucking him down, tongue rough against silky, hot-blooded skin, lips tight with pressure and tasting at the wet dewdrops seeping forth from his sensitive tip. But it’s those other two fingers, now knuckles deep… _milking him steadily from the inside…_ that are driving him crazy. Sam feels one hand slip down to his throat, because despite his best efforts, he is _loud_ , but he can’t help it. The room is gone, the world is gone… _it is Rowena and her touch, and it is volcanic pressure settling deep within his core, the throb, throb, throb of his cock as it jerks and hardens against her tongue, it is pleasure so warm and thick that it lodges right up against his throat, pushes out a string of curse words and filthy, panted pleas._

Sam feels something hot and blinding moving up within him, and he knows he is going to burst. He is slack-jawed and moaning, his mile-long legs are sprawled open and thighs are slick with tremors, his back is arched against the bed and his chest is shuddery with half-gasped breaths. He knows he needs to tell her, so he musters all the clarity he can to murmur, “Ro-Rowena, I’m— _shit—_ I’m gonna…”

Rowena hollows her cheeks and drinks him down, goes as low as she possibly can. Her knuckles push and squirm… _fingers massaging so deep and thoroughly that his whole body feels like warm jelly…muscles relaxed and limp…he can’t even feel his toes anymore—and oh, shit._ Sam throws his head back into the pillow, short, strangulated cries punching the night air… _he is spilling hot into her mouth, and she keeps going, keeps milking him down. And it is not steady spurts, like his usual orgasms, he is surging, long and unbroken…and he is swept away by one long, gripping wave of pleasure as it peaks in his brain and drains all the way down, settling into his lower stomach—abs contracting—right into his thick length and heavy balls. Muscles spasming, breath stolen from his lungs—eventually, it all empties out of him and he is left shivering and gasping, eyes wide with shock and legs weak and trembling._

Rowena releases his now softening cock, wriggles her fingers out of his body, and slowly climbs up the length of his tall stature. He’s a mess, he knows, but he can’t help but smile at her and chuckle weakly as his body continues to quiver. She gives him a slow kiss… _lets him taste himself on her lips…_ before nuzzling up under his chin, pleased with her good work. He wraps his arms around her small body and pulls her in close, muscles still giving way to a light shock of tremors. She kisses his neck softly, whispering against his flushed skin, “And?”

_And…and what does he choose to remember. Because it’s a choice, and it’s one he makes every morning when he gets out of bed, when he tells the mirror he won’t let someone else tell him how to think or feel. It’s a choice, and it’s one he makes every night when he goes to bed, when he tells himself he is human, he is a work in progress, and tomorrow he’s gonna do better, be stronger. It’s a choice, because as Dean once told him in the hushed promise of a dark motel room, you can choose to be a victim or you can say screw the world—screw the devil—and choose to be a goddamn survivor. It’s a choice, and it’s one he’s gotta make every day for the rest of his life._

Sam gives a slight nod. _He doesn’t have much to say. He has always been quiet by nature, made even more so over the years by trauma and damage. But he is passionate too, and Jess once told him that still waters run deep. He always liked that. He thinks maybe Rowena seems to understand that too, seems to realize that she helped give him more than a good romp in the sheets tonight, she gave him back something that had been stolen from him. He wonders if he did a little of the same for her, but she’s far too complicated to read._

“I think…” Sam whispers, fingers sliding against the cooled heat of her skin, strumming gently. He crooks his neck to smile down at her, and she returns his grin, green eyes sparkling. “I think I’m gonna remember tonight.”

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

Sam returns home to the Bunker sometime around five in the morning. _Sam and Rowena ended up talking far longer into the night than both had realized, touching on subjects a little more personal than either had meant to. She points out that society often punishes sexually adventurous women—and that it’s men who ruin sex for both genders. She mentions she couldn’t care less about the opinions of others, and Sam believes her, but he doesn’t quite believe her when she acts as if her parents condemnation—calling her the town whore and throwing her out of the house—doesn’t still upset her. But he extends a branch of understanding—after all, he tells her, he was also kicked out of the house by a hard-to-please father._

_“For being the town whore?” She teases, and he can’t help but laugh at that one, although it also serves to make her point rather nicely._

_They talk long into the night…whispering into their pillows, into the softness of each other’s skin. They end up whispering about maybe meeting up like this again—Sam doesn’t remember who exactly brought it up first—but that’s right when Dean calls, and right when Sam knows deep in his heart that they can’t catch lightening in a bottle twice. Dean is worried—it’s late, Sam hasn’t called or texted once—and Sam promises he’s on his way home soon._

_Sam sees it in her eyes the moment he hangs up the phone. Rowena scoffs at him loudly…my, my, Dean has control issues. Sam is what…in his thirties? And he still has to answer to big brother? Sam jumps to his brother’s defense. He means well, after all, and they’ve been through a lot together. Rowena gives him a sidelong glance but says nothing in response. But the damage is clearly done, the spell has broken for both of them. They remember who they are and where their loyalties lie. They remember that Sam would kill Rowena on sight, if Dean decided it’s what they needed to do, they remember that Rowena would sell Sam out the minute it served her. And so they quietly get dressed, quietly let themselves out of the motel room. Sam offers Rowena a ride, but she’s more content to disappear into the shadows._

_“Samuel,” She whispers, pulling him down and getting on her tip-toes to press a goodbye kiss to his flushed cheek. “I suppose a collective five orgasms doesn’t make us square.”_

_Sam turns his head so that he captures her mouth, taking her by surprise, worrying her bottom lip between his teeth. The peepers are deafening as they embrace, arms coming up to hold on, mouths drinking each other down in the darkness. When he releases her, they catch each other’s gaze and hold it for one moment longer. “Never.”_

_“Well, be sure to tell that brother of yours I was in his car.” She gives him a wink, disappearing into the night with a flick of her red curls. “And you.”_

_Sam breathes out a soft laugh, hands tucked in his pockets. She is gone. He drives the Impala home, still smelling like sex and the cigarette smoke of the motel sheets._

Dean is waiting for him at the kitchen table, wrapped up in his blue robe. He stands when he hears the door close from the staircase above, patters forward to meet Sam as he descends.

“Dude, it’s five in the morning.” Dean snaps, and Sam sighs, his plan to sneak into bed and avoid awkward questioning already blown. “The bar closed three hours ago. Where the hell—” He narrows his eyes, moving toward Sam suspiciously. Sam feels his cheeks and the bridge of his nose flush heatedly as Dean sniffs at the collar of his shirt. “God, you smell like…”

“Dean, knock it off, that’s weird.” Sam’s voice pitches a bit high as he shakes his head, pushing Dean away from him. “Look, I’m fine. Just lost track of time, that’s all.” He takes a minute to regain his composure, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. “How was your night? How’s Cas doin’?”

Dean gives a small shrug, frowning slightly. “Good. I mean, he _was_ doin’ good. We, uh, we spent time together…” Dean explained, using hand motions that were likely meant to be innocent, but Sam still only saw it to mean they had sex. “He fell asleep for a while. But then he woke up around four, couldn’t get back to sleep. Too many things tumblin’ around in his head, I don’t know. Went to your room to watch TV, then found out that _you_ never came home.”

Sam nodded, his heart softening, seeing the real anxiety behind Dean’s concern. _Castiel was having a hard time lately, and the angel’s inability to sleep through the night was weighing heavily on Dean. And then, when Dean realized Sam wasn’t home either, it likely all just became too much. Dean had a big heart, and he used it to make sure everyone was safe and happy and right where they needed to be. Sam could appreciate that. Sam was grateful for that._

“Well, thanks for checking on me.” Sam smiled, sincerely, reaching out to slap his big brother affectionately on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shoulda texted you sooner.”

“’S’all right.” Dean shrugged, giving Sam an endearing glance, pacified by his apology. “Long as you had a good time. You had a good time, right?”

Sam nodded his head, smiling gently. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, Dean.”

“Good.” Dean returned the nod, pulling his robe closed. “Well, I’m goin’ back to bed. You hittin’ it, or do you need somethin’ first? Beer? Food? A shower?”

“Probably a shower, then I’m gonna grab some shut-eye too.” Sam agrees, heading towards his room. As they turn the corner together, Sam catches Dean with a self-satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye. “What?” Dean’s smile broadens, and Sam sighs. “ _What_?”

“I know your secret.” Dean grins, and Sam can feel himself blushing furiously. _Great. Now he’ll hear about this all day tomorrow. And all night. And possibly the next day too._

“Yeah?” Sam ventures, blinking, trying to sound and look as innocent as possible.

“You were smokin’ cigarettes at the bar tonight, weren’t you, Sammy?” Dean winks, turning towards his room and walking down the hallway. “Rebel.”

 _ What? _ _Oh. Oh, right. The cigarette smell from the motel sheets._

Sam struggles to keep the smile off of his face. “Got me, Dean.” He heads towards his room, a deep affection seeping into his heart for his brother. “Night.”

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

Sam finishes his shower, padding into his room as quietly as possible. He towels off his mess of brown hair, already clad in his nightwear of soft, fleecy shirt and yoga pants. The light is off, but he can see the faint glow of the television and the outline of a man sitting at the edge of his bed, clad in old sweatpants and his brother’s ACDC shirt.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam greets, and the other man glances over at him and gives a small wave. Sam squints at the television, but it’s all a blue-and-green blur to his bleary eyes. “What’re you watchin’?”

“It’s called _Full House_.” Cas explains, hands propped on his knees as he sits cross-legged on the mattress. “It’s a show centered around learning important familial values.”

Sam tries to hide his smile as he flings open the covers and slides into bed. “I’m not gonna bother you if I get some sleep, am I?”

“Of course not, Sam.” Cas insists earnestly, giving a small shake of his head. He then casts a worried glance over his shoulder. “I’m not bothering _you_ by watching TV, am I?”

“Of course not.” Sam smiles at him, fluffing the pillow before settling down on his side. The room falls into a hushed silence for a moment, interrupted only by the faint laugh track sounding from the screen. Finally, Sam asks, “How was your night?”

“Your brother and I had intercourse.” Cas answers, with an honest sincerity, grinning at whatever was said on the television. “But then I had trouble sleeping.”

Sam bites at his bottom lip with endearment for Cas’s blunt answer. _He was glad Dean and Cas had found each other, had built something so permanent together, but still. He couldn’t let that go without some razzing. _“Cas, remember we talked about sharing too much information?” Sam sighs, casting a softened glance over at the angel. _Cas was like a brother to him now…and somehow like a little brother too, as strange as that sounded, as Castiel was certainly millennias old. Still, Sam felt protective of the angel, felt like it was his job to teach Cas all the important things Dean might forget, like having a modicum of modesty, for example._

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Cas quirks his lips to the side, as if he _should_ have remembered that, icy blue gaze still locked on the television screen. “How was your night, Sam?”

Sam smiles softly, the situation almost too perfect to pass up. _Well, he did kinda want to share his night with someone. And Cas, unlike Dean, wasn’t going to spend the rest of the week enthusiastically ribbing him._ “I had intercourse too. Met a lady at the bar.”

“Really?” Cas returns the smile, bright blue eyes blinking over at him and shrouded in the soft glow of the light. “Good for you, Sam.”

Sam chuckles under his breath. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep inhale, allowing the comfort of Cas’s presence in the room to lull him to sleep. _He grew up sharing a room with someone, after all. Dean and him used to share a bed when they were kids, then they were always less than the length of a motel room away. Sam likes having the privacy and security of his own room, but damned if he doesn’t also like having the angel here with him now too. It feels like old times. It feels like…it feels like a real home, filled with family and love. And Sam knows that any victory he achieved tonight, any acceptance of self that he has achieved this past year, he found within himself because of his family. And no matter what happens the next time he meets Rowena, he’s gonna remember that for tonight…that for tonight, he was grateful to her, grateful for all the baggage that she brought with her into their encounter, and for all the baggage she allowed him to unpack too._

_It’s a choice he has to make every day for the rest of his life. And of course, he’s always gonna remember everything that led him to where he is today, both the good and the terrible, but at the end of the day…at the end of the day, he’s gonna choose to remember the good. He’s gonna choose to remember tonight._

Sam smiles softly to himself and murmurs sleepily, “Yeah, good for you too, Cas.”

 

 

 

_Fin._


End file.
